


Like an Enraged Bull

by Apep40



Category: Spartacus Series (TV)
Genre: F/M, Forced Nudity, Gladiators, Humiliation, Poor Varro, Public Humiliation
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-06-10
Updated: 2021-02-13
Packaged: 2021-03-03 19:34:08
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 7
Words: 43,102
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24640942
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Apep40/pseuds/Apep40
Summary: After her attendance at Lucretias party on the eve of the Vulcanalia, Iliythia obsession with gladiators reaches a new level and the target of her obsession is Varro.
Comments: 68
Kudos: 19





	1. Night of the Vulcanallia

It was astounding the change in Ilithyias mood that Spartacus presence alone could provoke.

Glabers pampered little bitch had been enjoying herself immensely at Lucretia’s expense, drinking her wines, ogling at the muscular bodies of the gladiators her husband trained, making her little veiled insults at Lucretia. _To think what I spent on this necklace_. Lucretia thought, her grip tightening so hard over her emerald jewellery that she nearly drew blood. Until she saw Spartacus, she froze on the spot, her self-satisfied smirk quickly leaving her face.

“The Thracian yet lives?” she hissed. Lucretia wrapped her arm around her and beckoned her on.

“For now.” She reassured her visitor. She tried to move Ilithyia quickly to get the little brats mind off Spartacus. While Lucretia would happily choke the life of Ilithyia but she knew how much the pleasure of the senators daughter meant to the success of her husband, and she would do what she could to keep her happy and entertained.

“Is there nothing more of interest to see?” Ilithyia complained. Lucretia forced a smile on her face.

“Well my husband will shortly announce his primus, and there’s ample wine.” She held up a cup offering it to her guest. From the expression of Ilithyia face it would be assumed that Lucretia had offered her piss.

“I fear it already beckons my sleep.” _I_ lithyia sulked. Her demeanour was more similar to a bored child, rather than the loyal wife who had been confronted with the man who had humiliated her husband. Lucretia smiled, sensing the opportunity to regain her interest and favour.

“Of course, there is something else I thought you might enjoy,” Ilithyia immediately perked up, intrigued, “it’s something of a much more physical nature.” Ilithyias eyes lit up at the prospect. _Patrician women truly are whores at heart._ Lucretia thought beneath a polite smile. She began to survey the assembled gladiators before her, they had all been personally picked by Batiatus to be displayed for her guests and they were the most well trained and the most handsome gladiators that the Ludus had to offer, all boasted muscular physiques that would shame a god and all had been shaved and oiled for the evening. _Now let us see, who to pick._

Crixus seemed to be the most logical choice. She knew he had Ilithyias eye, she had even tried to paw at his muscular chest this evening, but she would never allow her Gaul to be subjected to such indignities. Besides, she knew her husband would demand a very high payment from her guests for the privilege of seeing their champion take part in such a performance. She took a few seconds before making her decision. She decided on the recruit who had just recently gained the mark, the only one of her husband’s new men who had showed any promise in the arena, the muscular blonde Roman named Varro.

Varro had been one of the main objects of attention that evening, after their champion Crixus and Spartacus whose victory over the men from the Ludus of Solonius had made him a novelty for the assembled guests _._ Many of the guests had examined him at their leisure that evening their hands caressing his stomach _,_ arms and chest and as the evening drew on and the guests had helped themselves to more and more wine their explorations had grown bolder, feeling his ass and thighs. One woman had grown so bold she actually kissed him _._

 _And why not? He is a very handsome man._ Varro was tall with bronzed skin; he had a handsome face and his short curly golden hair seemed to catch the light of the torches in the room. More importantly, he boasted the same sort of physique that Crixus had, which was rather impressive considering the short length of time he had been training at the Ludus. He possessed a musculature that was as burly as a wrestler but was as toned and etched as a dancer. _Yes, he should do._

“You,” she addressed the blonde man, who nervously looked up at her, startled to be addressed by the domina of the house, “Come with me”. She smiled walking indicating to Varro to follow. He gave a nervous glance to Spartacus, who had fast become his only friend at the ludus, before following the woman who now owned him. His steps slow and nervous, if he had looked back, he would have seen Iliythia looking on almost giddy with excitement and anticipation. 

Varro had followed Lucretia into a dark room, two houses slaves following them. Varro stood there awkwardly, unsure what his purpose or Lucretia’s intent was. He did not have to wait for long, Lucretia produced a knife and smiling began to walk towards Varro. His blue eyes widened in panic.

“Domina, if I have done anything to offend you this evening I….” he gasped as Lucretia swiftly cut off his subligaria leaving him completely naked in the room. Varro instinctively moved his hands to cover himself only for Lucretia to slap them away.

“We’ll have none of that slave,” she smirked, she would normally have found this mild defiance unconscionable from a slave but knowing Varro’s origins as a roman and former freedman she would forgive it. His boyish modesty and innocence were rather endearing as well _. I wonder how long that will last?_

Varro just stood silently, nude before his mistress. From his earliest age Varro had known about his low status as a plebeian in roman society, he was barely above a slave in many respects. He had found the higher classes intimidating growing and now a member of them was staring at him in this vulnerable state.

Lucretia liked what she saw. _His cock was of an impressive size, just like the rest of the man._ She thought admirably. She looked at him for a few more second before saying.

“Prepare him,” She commanded to her slaves. Varro was getting more and more confused at what was happening and what Lucretia was planning for him before he felt the slave’s hands on him. Their hands where covered in oil which they where now rubbing into him. He wanted to walk away from this, he felt embarrassed and uncomfortable, but he knew he had no choice, so he just stood there as the slaves went about their business.

Lucretia had commanded her slaves to take their time with preparing Varro. She wanted to build the participating in her guests particularly Ilithyia and she wanted to gauge how Varro would endure the process. He was a very handsome man after all, his services would command a very high price and her husband needed all the money they could find. He was standing there quietly, trying to maintain a stoic expression, his face only occasionally betraying the feeling of pleasure the slaves work was producing in him. 

The body slaves’ hands had repeatedly explored every hill and valley of Varro’s muscular body, they had even oiled his fingers and toes. The slaves for their part had enjoyed being given such a handsome man to work with. One slave had focused on Varro’s abdominal muscles that were as toned and defined as a statue, and another had enjoyed kneading and squeezing the roman man’s firm ass. Lucretia smiled and clapped her hands to signal the slaves where to begin the next process of his preparation. Varro gasped as he felt one slaves experienced hands begin to fondle him.

“Domina, why…” His words where cut off by Lucretia making a shooshing noise at him, like a dog. 

“You are to take part in a performance this evening.”

“A performance? Who am I to f-fight like this?” He asked nervously. The slave had finished their work, Varro’s cock was now as hard as an iron bar. Lucretia smiled at that. 

“You’re mistaken, slave. Your performance does not involve the clashing of swords or anything else so banal. Your performance is of a much more sensual nature.” Varro’s eyes widened in panic.

“Sensual?” he repeated nervously. At this point he had figured out what was to be demanded off him this evening. “No,” he whispered to himself, “no, no.” He had heard off such things being done to slaves, of them being forced to engage in coitus before drooling spectators but such things where only to be found in the meanest brothel. This was a Ludus, where men are forged into gladiators, a place of honour, and besides what would Aurelia think?

But he could see from Lucretia expression that she was serious. He felt some words beginning to form, pleas for mercy he knew where pointless and all he could do was stand there without saying a word. He hung his head in resignation staring quietly at his feet like a boy. Lucretia put he fingers under his chin and lifted his face up.

“Slave, you will not put in a poor performance. You are a gladiator; you are what men aspire to be and woman desire to have. You will see are guests satisfied or,” she looked straight into his eyes, “you can take the woman’s place.” Varro was horrified at the prospect and enduring any further humiliation. He steeled himself, straightened up and looked into Lucretia’s eyes.

“I understand, domina.” He nodded at her. Satisfied that he would put in the effort required of him, she then began to inform Varro about everything else he would need to do this evening.

Ilithyia had been growing impatient. She was beginning to fidget. What could Lucretia be doing with the roman man? And then Lucretia re-entered the room, with Varro following behind her. Ilithyia gasped as she saw the gladiator. He was completely nude, walking with an erection, a sight Ilithyia had found both comical and arousing. He had been thoroughly oiled which seemed to bring out the definition in his physique even more, he looks like a Greek statue come alive, Ilithyia thought to herself. He was walking with a ponderous dignity, especially considering that Lucretia’s guests, many of whom were now quite drunk could not resist squeezing and caressing the man. The sound of hard muscle being slapped and squeezed punctuated the room as he walked over to his partner in the room.

She was another of Lucretia’s slaves. She had been stripped naked, apart from a small strip of silk around her breasts. She was on her hands and knees like an animal on the platform in the centre of the room. Unlike Varro, who was suppressing his apprehension and embarrassment she was lying there with a completely blank, indifferent expression. Shed been used like this many times before and will probably be used like this many more times again. Varro wondered if he too would grow used to such treatment.

He was standing in front of the platform, the guests particularly Ilithyia where eager for him to mount the platform and begin but Lucretia had told him to wait for her to address the guests. She stood in front of them and began her speech.

“Good people of Capua, honoured guests, esteemed friends. I welcome you to the performance you are about to witness. For this is more than a feast for the eyes. What you where about to witness is the union between a mortal woman and a man forged by the gods themselves,” on que Varro struck a pose showing off the muscles in his chest and arms, eliciting impressed gasps from the guests, Lucretia smiled and turned to address Varro, “and now begin.” Varro climbed out the platform and began his task.

Lucretia had explained Varro that she should not he be concerned with his own pleasure or that of the slave girl but rather that of the crowd. Varro had heeded her advice, he made his thrusts strong and forceful, he dramatically moved his body for the crowds entertainment, he arched his back displaying his flat, defined stomach to the delight of the audiences both male and female. He had found the process both humiliating and painful. He wondered how the poor woman he was inside of felt but she had yet to make a sound. Varro had tried to maintain a quiet dignity throughout his ordeal, but it had begun to crack. Especially as he heard the guests talk about him, about the attributes of his body they admired, what they would do to him if he was their slave, he even heard some place a bet on how much longer he would last. The stoic expression in his face had been replaced by a grimace of thinly veiled humiliation and disgust at the perverted guests in front of him. 

Ilithyia was transfixed by what she was witnessing. She had never seen anything like it, she had seen erotic artwork in the past, but this was the first time she had ever seen man and woman engaged in sexual acts for the entertainment of a crowd. She was enchanted by the gladiator that Lucretia had chosen. Varro, was it? He did not quite boast the same definition as Lucretia’s Gaul, but he still had a body that shamed most men. Why couldn’t every man be shaped so? She pouted.

She was enchanted by what she saw, as she circled around the golden Adonis as he went about his performance. She enjoyed watching the dance of the muscles in his stomach and how his toned, firm buttocks tightened with each thrust. She felt almost intoxicated by the sight of him. He even appeared like a god, now just from his perfect physique but the way the light of the room seemed to be reflected by his sweaty, oiled body. She felt herself moved closer and closer to him. Lucretia smiled at the effect the performance was having on her.

“You can touch,” She whispered to Ilithyia. This seemed to break her out of trance, she looked at Lucretia uncertainly who only smiled reassuringly. Ilithyia giggled like a little girl and walked over and placed her hand on Varro’s pectorals. Iliythia gasped in awe, they were as firm and hard as marble. The roman slave groaned at this latest humiliation but did not dare stop. 

“The way he rams her,” she said in awe,” like an enraged bull,” she whispered. She was afraid of the hard gladiator at first but now certain that Varro would not dare interrupt her she began to become braver in her exploration. She ran her hand down his firm chest and over his stomach, sighing contently as she felt every bump on his defined, hard stomach. As she rubbed his abdominal muscles, she heard Lucretia whisper to her.

“A gladiators virtues extent beyond the arena as lovers they’re said to be ravenous beasts.” Ilithyia could barely understand what Lucretia was saying, was she offering her a gladiator’s services? She was so focused on Varro’s performance that she gave no notice to anything else. Varro had lifted his head and was gazing at the ceiling. She heard him mutter something, it sounded apologetic. That confused her, what was there to feel guilty for? She smiled and her hand continued their exploration of the muscles on his stomach and chest.

Eventually, Varro’s performance had to end. Ilithyia was squeezing his left pectoral muscle as it happened, she shuttered quietly as he climaxed, feeling a connection with the man. She almost wished she were the woman who Varro had been forced to engage with, a sentiment shared by many of the women who would go home to fat, old husbands. 

Lucretia was smiling proudly. This had gone better than it had even in her wildest dreams, she knew Ilithyia would enjoy the sex show, but she had no idea shed enjoy it that much. So, had most of the guests assembled, Varro was quite a performer, she was sure that shed receive some quiet offers from her guests to solicit his services. Then she looked at Ilithyia again, her hand had yet to leave Varro. She was absentmindedly continuing to squeeze and stroke his pecs; her right thumb was swirling around his left nipple.

“Can he…do it again?” She said quietly, when she looked at Lucretia who smiled at her reassuringly, she then asked again much more forcibly. “Make him do it again. “She demanded. Varro quietly whimpered and groaned. He was exhausted, his body was covered in so much sweat he looked he had emerged from a pool, he looked pleadingly at Lucretia, who only smiled at him.

“Proceed.” She commanded in her most polite tone of voice. Varro sighed, resigning himself to having to repeat the same humiliation twice. He straightened himself up and proceeded to obey his Domina.

This time Ilithyia was much bolder in her conduct. No longer content with just touching Varro’s chest and stomach her hands explored every part of his bronzed, sculpted body that she could. Her hands found themselves around his firm thighs, his broad back, his strong arms. She even moved her hand around to his ass, she left it here for a few minutes as she felt the perfect, rock-hard mounds move under her hand. That did prove to be a bit much for some of the guests, most of them weren’t of the moralizing, conservative nature of most of Capua’s elite but even still there where standards of behaviour that even the most libertine member of society had to adhere to, especially a senators daughter. As the married woman gently nibbled on the broad muscled shoulder of the roman man as he continued to thrust into the slave, she was in breach of most of them. Not that she cared, let them gossip, just as long as she could enjoy the spectacle in front of her.

Varro’s for his part was in a sorry state. He was completely exhausted at this point, no longer capable of the dramatic athletic acts that impressed the crowd on his first performance. Now, he was only capable of slow, clumsy thrusts, willing himself to last as long as possible to keep Lucretia guests entertained. Ilithyia was not helping, her thorough explorations of his body were making it impossible for him to concentrate. He let out a quiet gasp as her hand roughly squeezed his ass with one hand, as another gently caressed his left thigh. It was getting too much. His face was red from embarrassment at being pawed at like a piece of meat, he was not going to last much longer. 

Ilithyia sensed that too, she wanted to experience it with him. She moved her hand away from his ass, slowly gliding her hand up along his wide, strong back. Letting her fingers gently touch him , sending slight feeling of pleasure through his body. Her hand came to rest on his sweaty hair, so damp at that point it looked like it was turning a slight brown colour. When she sensed he was close to climax, her grip suddenly tightened around her hair. She pulled his head close to her and she kissed him, deeply and passionately. This was too much for Varro who spilled his seed into the slave girl for the second time that night. Ilithyia pulled out of her deep kiss from Varro, stopped to admire his handsome features and then planted a quicker, chaste kiss on his lips. Then she withdrew giggling.

Lucretia was not sure what to make of that, she was happy that Ilithyia had taken the bait so thoroughly, but she was not sure what to make of Ilithyia publicly making a spectacle of herself. _If news of Ilythias behaviour tonight reaches her father or her husband’s ears......_ Lucretia dreaded to think. Its not like any of the other guests had any right to judge and most of them had proven themselves discreet at the hidden delights offered by the house of Batiatus. Some of their most loyal clients where here tonight. One of them, a merchant who was a close friend of the magistrate enjoyed it almost as much as Ilithyia had. He was almost thrice Varro’s age, fat enough that Lucretia wondered how he could walk on his own and his eyes had never left the roman slave as he went about his performance paying no more heed to the female slave than he would a piece of furniture.

Varro looked on the brink of collapse, a mixture of the exhaustion of undergoing his performance after a day of excruciatingly hard training and the sheer overwhelming humiliation he had just endured. Now that it was finished Varro attention was no longer solely consumed by the slave, he had sex with or the roman noblewoman who had touched him throughout his ordeal, he finally took notice of the guests around him. He saw how they were lustfully staring at him, how they had licked their lips at him. He wanted to glare at him but there were several guards in the room, armed with swords while Varro was still in the nude. So, Varro just quietly lowered his head in shame, hoping no one notice the look of fury in his eyes. He was forced to remain there, on his hands and knees like a dog on the raised platform for a few more minutes as the guests continued to stare at and admire his body. 

When he was allowed to get off the platform, he felt his feet almost fall out from underneath him. Groaning in embarrassment, he tried to comfort himself with the knowledge his humiliation was ending. He wiped the sweat off his face with his burly forearm and began to walk. Only then did Lucretia signal him to stop with a slight gesture. She then indicated to the female slave Varro had been coupled with.

Since the woman had just lain with a god of the arena, Lucretia proclaimed, then she should thank him like one. With that the female slave, without complaint, crawled in front of Varro and kissed his bare feet. The crowd clapped and applauded in mock celebration as Varro stood there awkwardly without saying a word. 

They then provided him with a replacement subligaria for the one Lucretia destroyed. Only it was placed on a pillow lying on the floor on the opposite end of the room. Sighing, he walked slowly through the rest of the room giving the guests one last thorough look at his nude body up close. As he picked up the subligaria the crowd appreciatively took one last look as his ass before it was covered by the fabric. As he was getting up the fat old man who had ogled Varro “accidentally” spilled his wine over him. As droplets of wine cascaded down Varro’s muscular form, the old man placed a single finger behind one drop of wine, it followed the drops journey down Varro’s body before he flicked it off. He placed the tip of his finger in his mouth and sucked, enjoying the taste of the wine and Varro’s sweat. The alcohol in the wine stung his eyes but at least Varro had some cool liquid to sip at after the long time he had spent exerting himself in the hot stifling room in the villa.

Realizing, she had gotten all the entertainment she could get from the muscular, blonde man she signalled for her slaves to escort him out to get cleaned up and re-join the rest of the assembled gladiators. As she was turning her attention back to her assembled guests, she saw that Ilithyia was still staring at him lustfully as he was leaving the room. Lucretia smiled to herself. Even if her husband’s slaves perform poorly tomorrow at the Vulcanalia this had proven to be a very productive evening.


	2. Varros Preparation

Lucretia looked on from the balcony of the ludus onto the training grounds below. She was feeling rather content with the world. When her husband had announced his departure to the pits she was furious initially at the thought of her husband descending onto a place of shame and dishonour but as Batiatus explained they desperately needed the money and more importantly it meant the end of the Thracian.

Spartacus performance at the Vulcanalia had brought disgrace to both himself and, by proxy, her husband. It had ended all curiosity the crowd had with the man and all potential he had to eclipse Crixus place in the ludus with it. If people remembered his name at all it was all only to sneer at it with contempt. To be sure, fighting the man until he died was a rather inelegant form of execution, Lucretia would have just poisoned him but her husband had decided he would wring every last bit of coin out of the man for as long as he lived.

Besides now that her husband was gone, she could enjoy the sight before her. The training ground shimmered with the sheer heat of the sun. Even the strongest, most hardened men were struggling underneath the harsh climate. The sands where soon soaked with the seat, blood, and tears of the gladiators. A sea of muscled man where straining and struggling beneath her, their bodies gleaning with a sheen of sweat but she was focusing on two men the most. Men whose whose muscles looked like they were etched by a sculptor who were locked into combat. Crixus and Varro.

Varro had proven himself a valuable asset for her husband. Now only in his aphrodisiac performance on the party on the night of the Vulcanalia, which had gotten her guests on a much more agreeable mood towards hearing her husband plead for buisness, but he had also proved himself a fine warrior, effortlessly winning his match against his opponent. Both she and her husband agreed that he was the finest asset the ludus had procured in years and that training him to his fullest potential would be of the outmost importance for the future of the house of Batiatus. He had instructed that Crixus would be Varro’s sparring partner from now on, the Gaul had balked at that at first, she knew, finding training a man barely above a recruit to be beneath him but even he admitted that Varro had an impressive strength and potential for one so inexperienced after a few weeks with training with him.

Lucretia for her part persuaded there to be different addition to his training. Varro’s physique had wowed her guests and his nude body had done more to win her husband new contracts than any of his boasting of his mens virtues had, to that end she decided to make sure his body would be improved even more for the next time he would perform for an audience. She instructed doctore than he would alter the romans training to aim to improve his body as well as his combat skills. Doctore had looked at her curiously and informed her than yes, he could alter his training, but it would cause his skills in the arena to slow. Irritated, Lucretia just commanded him to add to Varro’s training so he would exercise an hour before and after the days normal training. Doctore, hardly a man renowned for his leniency or compassion, found this incredibly cruel but he obeyed. Now, on the days morning before training officially begin Varro could be seen working his way through a gruelling regime of calisthenic exercises. At the end of the day the former freedman would make his way exhausted to the sleeping area long after the other gladiators had been allowed to rest and refresh themselves, his beautiful golden skin caked with dirt clinging to his sweaty body.

As cruel as it may have been the harsh training had done its job in a short space of time Varro’s body was even more sculpted, toned, and larger than when he entertained Lucretia’s guests. He now boasted a physique that equalled Crixus in its perfection. Lucretia looked at the two men fighting admirably, their subglarias where clinging so much to their sweat drenched bodies they looked naked. Even their firm muscular buttocks could be made out through the scraps of cloths that where the only things preserving their modesty. Lucretia smiled happily, enjoying herself at the sight of the golden man straining and exercising underneath the hot sun. Maybe I could summon him to my chambers, she thought. After years of trying with the strong and virile Gaul she had failed to conceive a child. Perhaps it was time to try with another man. And Varro was a man of proven fertility, she remembered. Her husband mentioned he had a wife and child he was hoping to care for with his winnings.

As she ogled both men, Varro was knocked to his back by a blow dealt to his face by Crixus wooden sword. Lucretia worried it was a serious injury but on closer examination all that was hurt was the Romans pride. His face was reddening up but there was no injury beyond that. When she looked more at the man’s body, she could not help but stare at his muscular stomach. His abdominals glistening in sweat, the contours more defined than ever, where rising up and down quickly as the Roman took in deep breaths. Lucretia felt herself staring at him, getting as lost in his beauty as Ilithyia had when a thought crossed her. Varro’s face was definitely going to be bruised for the rest of the week and she didn’t want to risk any more harm to the man, not with what she had planned for him.

As Crixus helped the roman man to his feet, she signalled to Doctore that Varro’s training was to change for the remainder of the today, rather than spar with an opponent he was to resume his other exercises. With that Varro was separated from a disappointed Crixus and he was made to do a series of laps around the training yard, punctured by a series of push ups.

Varro felt embarrassed as he was forced to do circuit after circuit around the yard, there was a guard who was all but drooling at him and when he was sure that nobody of note was looking he slapped Varro across his tight, toned buttocks as he passed him. The life of a gladiators was much more degrading than what he had expected. He knew he had harsh training and discipline awaiting him when he sold himself into slavery butt he didn’t expect the various humiliations he had endured. Varro still winced when he remembered his show with the slave girl, he could still fell the noble woman’s hands paw at his naked flesh and he could remember the obscene suggestions and proposals that Lucretia’s guests had shouted and whispered towards him.

Even his victory at the Vulcanalia had felt hallow. He had felt guilty about what he had done with the slave girl and he had asked Ashur to purchase the girl a gift with some of his winnings. It was meagre piece of jewellery, and he knew that his family needed every last coin he had but he needed the slave girl to know he was sorry for what he had done to her. Aurelia would understand, he hoped. As he toiled through another series of push ups, allowing Lucretia and many of her slaves to feast at the sight of watching his broad, muscular, bronzed back in motion, he missed the sight of Lucretia’s body slave whispering something towards her master. “Your guest is on her way” is what she said. Lucretia sighed, she beckoned at one her guards to fetch Varro from the training ground and have him prepared for the afternoon. Ilithyia was looking forward to seeing him again, she was sure.

“Varro, you are summoned.” Varro could barely make out that something had been said to him. He was well into his workout and he was concentrating so much he could barely notice anything else going on around him. The guard just irritably leaned over and slapped Varro across the face. Startled, he looked up and the guard repeated,much more irritably. “Domina, summons you.” Varro’s heart sank at that, he knew whatever it was he was being summoned for it was going to be degrading. Groaning, he got off the ground and he walked with the guard to the interior of the ludus.

When they where inside, a slave girl addressed him. “Come slave. Domina, demands that you be prepared for her guest.”

“Guest?” Varro repeated, knowing already it had to be the noblewoman that Lucretia had been so desperate to impress. He groaned miserably to himself, he had never met a woman like that before. One who would use a man for her pleasure like that. He shuttered at the memory of how she had squeezed and caressed and touched him to her hearts content and that was in public with the rest of Capuas elite bearing witness. He panicked at the thought of what she might do to him when there no one around to see and judge. Knowing he had no choice, he resigned himself to his fate and walked as bravely as he could, following the slave girl.

She escorted him into a small room. It had a small bed and a bath in it. He frowned at that. Seeing his suspicious look, the slave explained. “Domina wants you refreshed and rested for her guest.” Varro had mixed feelings, he wanted more than anything to feel the small comforts that he had lost since becoming a slave but he was weary over what it was that Lucretia had planned for him. His eyes widened when he saw a small plate of food being carried into the room and left besides the bed. Before he had time to appreciate this luxury, he felt strong hands grip his subglaria and with a strong pull ripped it off him, leaving him naked. He spurned round at the man who had stripped him, only to stop when he saw it was a guard, he lowered his head in deference, but he couldn’t quite stop glaring at him in anger. This meagre show of defiance offended the guard who quickly reminded Varro of his place. He took hold of Varro’s testicles in his calloused palm and started to gently rub and squeeze them while staring into the mans blue eyes. Then with a sadistic grin he squeezed them very harshly and roughly. Varro gasped from the pain and fell to his knees.

The slave girl, not giving any reaction to the guard’s sadistic treatment of Varro or the mans nudity, provided further instruction to Varro. “You may eat and sleep for the next hour. Then you’ll be bathed and prepared. You’ll be guarded at all times.” The guard who had molested Varro grinned at that. Varro was dreading what was going to happen to him but at the same time he felt his eyes lit up at the thought of sleeping in an actual bed. His body was so sore that half the time he was surprised he could actually move. He walked over to the bed, he saw that it had no sheet on it, nothing to cover himself while he lay naked, to his guard’s delight. He sighed and decided to eat first. He picked up his food, he left the plate on his groin, so the perverted guard couldn’t stare at his genitals. The guard smiled, not minding at all, he didn’t much care for the sight of cock and Varro’s was big enough it made him feel jealous. He much preferred staring at Varro’s musculature, he drinked in the beautiful sight of the slave’s muscular arms, chest and legs, more impressive than any of the actual art in the ludus. 

Varro ate slowly not wanting to rush, the food was the best he had eaten since he sold himself into bondage and he wanted to savour it. He felt awkward with the guard ogling him, but he realised the guard was a professional and wouldn’t risk earning the displeasure of his masters by molesting the slave when he was supposed to be letting him rest. He finished the meal, eating one last grape before lying down on the bed. It was soft and comfortable but even still Varro found it hard to let himself relax, knowing the guard was staring at him the entire time. Varro decided he would simply ignore the man, he turned on his side trying to forgot how much pleasure the guard would get from staring at his muscular ass, closed his eyes and within minutes he was asleep.

Varro slept for an hour, he dreamt he was back with his wife and child. They where now living in the country after he earned his freedom. He saw his wife smiling at him now that they where free from their debts and his son was impressed by how big and strong his father was. He smiled contentedly in his sleep before he felt a hand roughly shaking him to wake him up.

“Slave, you’re now going to be prepared for the dominas guest.” The guard couldn’t resist letting his hand linger on the mans muscled shoulder for a few seconds before impatiently dragging Varro out of his bed, while the man was still half asleep. Varro got up groaning, he wished he had just a few more hours to rest, that meagre amount of sleep was enough for Varro to realise just how exhausted he had become. The short rest had made him feel better but not by much. He rubbed the sleep from his eyes and then he saw the slaves who had been sent to prepare him. The slaves where led by an old fat woman, she could easily have been old enough to be his grandmother. He felt mortified, he should have been used to constant embarrassment by now but he felt himself blushing at the way the old woman was staring at his naked flesh, he nearly raised his hands to cover himself but he knew all that would earn himself would be a few slaps. So, he resisted the urge and rested his burly arms by his side, his nails digging into his palms.

He saw the old woman was holding a knife. The other women where holding various instruments “You’re to be cleaned off the worst of the dirt and shaved before being cleansed in the bath.” The old woman explained. Varro realised this was going to be a very humiliating process indeed. He realised he did need to clean himself, he was filthy from his time in the yard, with sand and dirt clinging to his body but evidently he wasn’t trusted to do the task himself and the giggling women now surrounding him where to the job for him.

He felt the olive oil being applied to him and the women beginning to message the oil into his body, they had been given bits of cloth to rub it into him but they had decided they would much rather use their bare hands. The women smiled and laughed to themselves as their hands travelled across and explored every contour of his rock-hard body. He desperately tried to relax not wanting to give anyone the satisfaction of watching him squirm. He sighed in relief as the more professional members of the slaves halted the other women’s fun, leaving them pouting and sulking at having their time with the golden haired Adonis prematurely ended. The other woman produced a Strigil and scraped the worst of the dirt on Varro’s tanned skin. When that was finished, he saw the old fat women approach him with her knife to shave him.

She beckoned at Varro to sit down on a stool she had brought in. Varro started to squirm and wiggle his toes boyishly. He had hated when his body had been shaved the night at the Vulcanalia. He knew the intent was to make him appear as a god, without any of the blemishes of men, but Varro had found the process humiliating. Not just having the most intimidate parts of his body touched but the fact the process left him as smooth as a small boy left him feeling infantilized. Since the night of the Vulcanalia he had grown some of his body hair back, there were some hair underneath his arms, some on his chest and legs. His pubic hair, as golden as the hair on his head, had grown back as well. All that was going to be gone soon, he reflected sadly, as he sat down on the stool.

As the women approached his groin to shave it, Varro tensed himself, anticipating that there was going to be a humiliating or degrading twist. Instead he was surprised that the woman went about her business quickly and efficiently. She was soon done with the hair around Varro’s legs and groin and then she bid Varro to rise so she could get to work on the rest of his body. It was humiliating, to be sure, having to bend and squat and twist his naked body, to the guard and slave women’s delight, so the old woman could more efficiently shave him but it was nothing compared to the treatment Varro had grown accustomed too. When she was finished Varro was more hairless than even during the night of the Vulcanalia, if that was possible. He doubted he even had a single hair remaining beneath his neck.

After that was other Varro was instructed to lie in the empty bath, the tiles felt cool against his bare skin. He saw the slave women had left the room and they where ordered to come back with water. As he waited the old woman gave Varro a brush and some soap and told him he could bathe himself but if they didn’t do a good job, she would take over the job. Varro blushed at the very notion, but he quickly nodded that he understood. The slave women came back holding jars containing cool, scented water. Varro sat in the bath as the women filled it. Varro wanted them to empty the water over him, so he could drink some of it. Like the rest of the men he was extremely thirsty, training hard under the hot sun and he hadn’t been given anything to drink along with his food. To his disappointment the water was emptied into the pool at the opposite side from where he was lying. When they saw his obvious frustration and disappointment they explained. The muscles of a mans who was parched from thirst popped out a lot more defined than they would normally, the old woman explained, consequently Varro was not permitted anything to drink. Varro winced at that but tried to enjoy the minor pleasures that had been given to him. The water felt nice against his warm body, especially his feet. Varro only noticed how sore they were as the cool water enveloped them, having spent almost every waking moment standing or running or training. He closed his eyes happily, almost forgetting where he was for a moment.  
The harsh cough of the old woman reminded him where he was, she pointed at the brush and soap lying to Varro’s side. When she said he could bathe on his own she had simply meant he could physically clean himself, he would still be under her close instruction and scrutiny. He was told where and how to clean himself. He found this be especially embarrassing, but he obeyed the women without question. Until, he was given a further instruction.

“Clean your feet. Make sure to get between your toes.” The old woman demanded sternly. That was too much for Varro, who finally made a weak protest at this latest humiliation. 

“I am a man, not a boy.” He said quietly. The old woman’s face purpled in outrage. She grabbed him by his golden, curled hair and slapped him roughly across the face. She held on tightly to his hair as she stared into his blue eyes. They were nervous and big and, ironically, made him look like a boy. With a smile she took hold off his brush and soap. Since he can’t be relied on to do the job, she would honour the promise she made to him and would bathe him herself. She then repeated the entire process that Varro had almost finished himself, intending to clean every inch of his body with her own hands. 

Whether it was from the anger at being spoken back too or the intoxicating power of having a man under her complete control, especially one as young and strong as Varro, she abandoned the professionalism she had displayed as she shaved him and indulged in the perverse sadism that her younger slaves and the guard had done. She started the process by making Varro stand up in the pool, she then instructed for him to bend over and grab his ankles. Varro reluctantly obeyed, the waters of the pool where shallow and Varro could feel the top of his head being submerged in water. He could see from between his gorgeous, muscled, bronzed legs that everyone in the room was staring at and ogling him. Some of the women tittered at the pathetic sight Varro made, while others stared lovingly at his firm, toned ass, the guard licked his lips at the sight. Varro gasped as he felt the old woman’s soft, wrinkled hands firmly begin to knead his buttocks. Her grip was surprisingly strong as she squeezed and pinched him. 

“Slave,” she hissed the word in contempt, “You believe yourself to be above the instructions given to you? You believe yourself already a god of the arena, above the instructions given to you by your betters?” Her hands where still probing and grabbing Varro’s buttocks. “You think the treatment given to you was more appropriate for a boy not a man? Let me show what that truly means.” 

She then began to give Varro a solid spanking. The old woman remembered the words given to her by Lucretia, Varro was not to be harmed in any way, not even the slightest bruise was permitted on his body. So, the women didn’t use the most of her surprising strength as she lay blow after blow on the Romans man’s perfect ass. The aim was just to leave a stinging reminder on the slave the cost of the slightest defiance. Varro for his part had closed his eyes and tried to endure the old woman’s abuse with as much dignity as he could. He had now idea how many blows the woman intended to deliver onto him, he tried to count the stinging sounds of the woman’s wrinkled hands making contact with the muscular mounds of flesh but stopped, realising it was only making him apprehensive and tense. Instead he willed his body to relax as much as it could as the old woman went about her fun. Eventually, the old woman finished Varro’s humiliating ordeal with one final blow delivered with relish. She then instructed Varro to lower himself back down into the cold water of the pool. From there she proceeded to bathe Varro as if he was a little boy. Using her materials she cleaned every part of Varro’s body. She deliberately took her time with the man, enjoying the chance of touching such a well-developed body. Especially when it came to clean what was between Varro’s legs, she went over the man’s large cock and balls repeatedly with a sponge. She concluded the process with washing his hair and face, making sure the man didn’t sip so much as a single drop of water.

Varro was finally allowed to stand up and leave the pool. He was expecting one of the slaves to give him a towel or something to dry himself. He was disappointed and embarrassed when he was told that they were just going to let the water dry off the man naturally. The heat of the draught in Capua had left the air in the villa stifling, Varro would be dry in a manner of minutes. His face was crimson, he wondered how he could make an appealing sight like this. Besides his face being scrunched up in embarrassment, there was also a large bruise from the blow Crixus had dealt him earlier today. As he stood awkwardly in the nude, the last of the drops of water drying off his muscles, he saw Lucretia enter the room. She was holding a mask. It looked like a god, Apollo perhaps. Varro had a feeling he would be wearing it tonight which made him deeply uncomfortable. He wasn’t a particularly pious man but dressing up as one of his gods to take part in whatever perversion the Roman woman had planned for him struck him as deeply blasphemous.

Lucretia held the mask up to his face. She thought it was a good fit judging by her smile. “It fits you well, Slave.” She started to run her fingers through his hard abs and his golden hair. “You almost seem born for this role. I’m sure looking at you well make Iliythia feel very pious tonight.” She continued to stroke Varro’s stomach, one finger circling a single abdominal muscle. “Iliythias grown very fond of you. You might be better served entertaining are clients rather that fighting in the arena.” Varro’s mouth fell open with horror at the very prospect. They couldn’t do that could they? He sold himself as a gladiator not a whore. Lucretia noticed the slave’s distress and laughed.

“You’d make much more money for your wife and child that way, I assure you,” she saw Varro stare at her incredulously, “but I wouldn’t concern myself if I were you. Both my husband and doctore believe you ripe with potential. I doubt you’ll be taken out of the arena any time soon.” Lucretia was perplexed at seeing Varro visibly relax at this news. Why would he be happy putting his life at risk when he could live in comfort? Men and their honour, Lucretia smirked.  
She handed the mask to one of the female slaves. “Finish preparing him.” She said to no one in particular. Varro noticed that some of the women were holding what looked like pots containing gold paint. His heart sank at the realisation that once again his body was going to be pawed and patted at again but he stayed as still as he could.

The guard who had been watching Varro all but drooled as he saw the slave women scoop up some of the gold paint and started to apply it the well-built roman man. They started off at his upper body. The effect was immediate. The paint brought out the definition in his muscles, already extraordinarily toned, even more. The paint seemed to transform hard flesh into golden metal. Seeing the women where already starting to make work on Varro’s muscled legs, the guard hesitantly asked the old woman if he might help. The old woman sharply looked at him, this was women’s work she told him and if the guard brought it up again, she would tell her masters what kind of a man they had in their employ. The guard moaned under his breath but just tried to enjoy the show, the women had made Varro raise his legs so they could apply paint the soles of his feet.

When the women had finished painting his skin, one pf the slaves scooped up some more paint to apply to Varro’s hair. The old woman stopped her, since his hair was already golden Lucretia saw no need to paint his head as well. With that done they placed a wreath on Varro before finishing by placing the mask on him. The women where stunned by their finished work, some of the women had assumed that the roman gladiator would look quite comical after they had finished preparing him, some had prepared to stifle laughs. No one was laughing now, besides the obvious erotic image the painted muscular man standing in the nude made, he truly did look like a god that had descending from the heavens. His physique, that had already looked like they been forged by the gods, now appeared as if it belonged to one.

The women admired their handiwork for a few more minutes before another slave told them that Varro was now needed at the villa, now that Lucretia’s guest would be arriving within minutes. Varro’s movements where slow and awkward as he walked through the villa, he felt embarrassed as nearly every slave or employee of the ludus walked past him , most slowed down to give him an admiring look, some where so bold as to touch or grab him. Varro found this even more humiliating that the night of the Vulcanalia when Lucretia’s guests touched him as he passed them, these people where his equals, he knew them, he’d have to face them again. The guard didn’t to anything to stop this, he found Varro’s discomfort rather amusing.  
They entered into main room of the villa, Varro saw that a feast had been prepared and in the centre of the room there had been placed an empty platform. He didn’t need to be told that he would be standing on it. Lucretia looked at Varro, impressed by her slave’s work, Ilithyia will be pleased by her offering tonight, she did not doubt. Lucretia walked over to Varro.

“Now slave. Tonight, you are to be elevated into art,” she nodded at a male pale-skinned slave, “he will show you which pose to adopt.” Lucretia leaned into him and hissed into his ear “Make a sound, move or fail in any way to impress my guest and you can join your friend in the pits.” Varro frightened at the prospect was about to quietly mutter “yes, domina” to his mistress but remembered the order not to talk, instead curtly nodded that he understood her. Smiling Lucretia then indicated to her male slave that he was to show Varro the correct way to pose on the platform.

The harsh sun was still glaring into the middle of the room when Varro was escorted onto the platform and was made to climb on top of it, from there the pale man showed Varro what way he should move and adjust his body. It was going to be a hard pose to for Varro to maintain, he had to stand on his left leg with just his toes supporting it and he had to stretch his strong right arm out as his far as it could, pointing towards the heavens. The man roughly probed and prodded and moved Varro like he was just a piece of meat or a piece of clay until he felt Varro looked well on the platform. Scented candles and incense where placed around his feet, Varro felt ridiculous but the looks he was getting from the members of the villa, even from Lucretia herself, where one of lust.

“If this doesn’t impress the little bitch, nothing will.” Lucretia muttered to herself. She heard the gates of the ludus open. Iliythia had arrived. She left the main hall to greet her friend. Varro remained standing motionless, he could faintly hear the men training in the yard, he would have given anything to join them and escape this humiliating ordeal.

“Ilithyia!” Lucretia said, feigning affection for the noblewoman as she always did. “My husband’s house is blessed by your presence. Come join me, I have prepared a feast”

“Oh, Lucretia,” Ilithyia replied, “I wish you didn’t go to so much trouble, I’ve told you these simple meals leave me unwell. Now, can I see the gladiators?”

“But Ilithyia,” Lucretia answered, her voice barely repressing an annoyed tone, “I have gone to such effort. I have even prepared a surprise for you.”

“None which would please me as much as seeing your beasts locked in mortal embrace.” Iliythia quickened her pace impatiently. She moved into the main room and then stopped when she saw Varro.

She had thought it was a piece of artwork at first, she had thought it was a work of Greek origin judging by how muscular it was. Impressive to look at but she felt her tastes had moved to a much more physical nature ever since Lucretia introduced her to the pleasures offered at her ludus. Iliythia had been enchanted by what she had seen that night, she would dream and fantasise regularly about what she had witnessed. Sometimes she dreamt that she was the slave that burly,blonde gladiator had lay with. She smiled at the thought of seeing the sneering, hypocritical faces of Capaus elite purple in outage as she the gladiator thrust into her. She imagined his sweat mixing with hers and she wondered what his hard, rippling body would feel like on top of her.

Sometimes her thoughts grew even more perverse and she dreamt of making Varro and Crixus fornicate before her eyes. They both had similar physiques both burly yet toned but thats where the similarities ended. Varro was fair and blonde, while Crixus was swarthy and dark haired, Varro was tall while Crixus, however strong and heavily muscled he was, was of average height, Varro was a novice on the sands while Crixus was a champion. She fantasised about making the two men pleasure each other, about making them kiss as she watched. She had even forced some of the slaves at her husbands villa to fornicate for her entertainment but it was not the same, even the most well-built man owned by her husband seemed like a scrawny boy compared to the gladiators owned by Lucretia’s husband.

She was staring at the golden statue, admiring the handiwork, when she noticed that it moved. She noticed the slight trembling of the mans shapely calves and thighs, she saw how the mans defined and large pectorals, abdominals and serratus muscles gently rose and fell as it took in breaths, she saw as she lowered her gaze downwards that the mans v line and hairless groin led to a large cock that was definitely made of flesh not stone or metal. She gasped in a mixture of shock and pleasure. Lucretia certainly knew how to entertain, that was undeniable.

As she leered at the man, she wondered which gladiator it was. Was it Crixus? No, this man was too tall and besides, she was fairly certain Lucretia was fucking him and wouldn’t let anyone else touch her precious pet. Then she saw the curled, golden hair on the slave’s head. She let out a laugh. It was Varro. The roman man she had gotten so much entertainment out of in her last visit.

“Oh, Lucretia. You shouldn’t have!” Iliythia beamed in delight. This visit was going to be very interesting indeed.


	3. A meal with Iliythia

Naevia had been ever by the side of her Domina, Lucretia, as she organised the reception for the wealthy Roman woman, Iliythia. As the day went by and Lucretia had ordered her to send instruction to the other house slaves, she realised that Lucretia had another “performance” in mind to please her guest. She was afraid it was going to be Crixus. She knew he was strong enough to endure nearly any humiliation or abuse, but she would hate to bear witness to it. It already pained to her to watch every time Lucretia summoned the Gaul from the ludus to fornicate with the man. When Lucretia had beckoned to the guards to summon the Roman man named Varro into the villa, she knew it was so that he would be used for base entertainment.

Naevia had known the man only in passing but he had seemed like a kind man. Despite being one of the strongest members of the gladiators, especially for one who had only truly began his training very recently. He was usually gentle with the men he was paired to spar with, unlike Barco or Crixus. He never humiliated or was harsh with his weaker opponent. Neavia had not needed to be told that Varro had been a freedman for most of his life, that was obvious. Not only from his friendly nature towards the other recruits but from his other traits. His modesty for one, the other slaves who spend much of their lives wearing only what was given to them by their masters, which often was very little , and had been accustomed to spending their time scantily clad or even naked, while Varro had grown used to having dignity. She remembered in the first few days how the Roman had squirmed in his subglaria, embarrassed to be all but naked except for a thin piece of cloth wrapped around his groin. This only grew attention towards him, especially amongst the slave girls at the ludus who giggled at his boyish innocence. The second was how unaccustomed he was to being given the harsh discipline and orders that other slaves where used to, Varro would hesitate when given a command, he would sulk and glare at guards if they struck him, and he would flinch and tense when one of his betters would touch him. She wondered how much longer it would take for the ludus to break him of these qualities?

She noticed he had been mainly paired with Crixus for the past several weeks, that worried Naevia. She was concerned that Varro was being trained to supplant Crixus as the champion of the house of Batatius. Crixus, while still possessing enormous strength and agility and boasting the greatest physique in all of Capua, was starting to approach his middle years. Varro also had the fair features of his Roman compatriots in contrast to the swarthy features of Crixus. The Roman man was also very attractive, with a handsome open face, big blue eyes and a mop of boyish, curls on his head. With a few more months of intensive training she feared he would soon start to rival her beloved Gaul.

These concerns occupied Naevia’s mind as she stood behind her mistress waiting for the Roman gladiator to arrive to be fitted onto the empty platform in the room. She heard the footsteps as they entered the room, the entourage was led by the slave girls who had been sent to prepare Varro. They all looked quite pleased with themselves. Neavia recalled how many of the slave girls had begged her to convince Domina to allow them to be the ones to prepare the handsome muscular man. Behind them, trailing them slowly and awkwardly, was Varro.

The man made a magnificent sight, his entire body was painted in gold. He was naked, the only covering he had was the mask on his face and the wreathe on his golden hair. His muscles seemed to ripple with each movement he took. Although, Naevia also found the sight rather intimidating. The mask dehumanised Varro, wearing it he looked like a statue or sculpture come alive. The obstruction of the mans kind face and eyes also left nothing to look at but the rest of his body. The man’s large, heavily muscled body seemed to radiate power. _One of his abdominals is the size of my fist,_ Naevia thought in awe. It truly felt like a God had been summoned to the ludus as the slave approached her and Lucretia.

The spell of Varro’s painted form was broken when she saw how sheepish and adorably awkward the man’s movements where. _He’s probably the most frightened person in the ludus right now_ , Naevia thought to herself sympathetically. When the slaves got close enough Lucretia promptly instructed them to leave. They did so quickly, upset that their time playing with Varro had come to an end. One slave couldn’t resist touching Varro one more time before she returned to her work in the ludus. Her left hand gently tracing the curve of Varro’s firm buttocks from the top of his strong thighs to the bottom of his back. The woman left smiling.

Neavia followed her mistress as she walked over to Varro and instructed him what to do and what was expected of him. From there Varro was made to climb the platform and strike a dramatic pose as a male slave manoeuvred him. Lucretia was fidgeting, this meeting had to go well, her husband had seen a huge investment go to waste when Spartacus disgraced himself, Crixus remained their only true draw for the crowd, and Solonius was now the most respected and sought after lanista in Capua. Naevia had rarely seen her mistress look so apprehensive and nervous, it frightened her. She was looking at her Domina wondering if there was anything she could say or do to soothe her. She fixated so much on her mistress that she didn’t notice the candles and incense being lit around Varro’s feet. When she smelt the sweet scents, she turned over and gasped, the work had been complete.

Naevia did not follow the Gods of her Roman masters but what she saw made her reconsider. Varro looked incredible posing, the position he was in was incredibly uncomfortable and difficult to maintain, calculated so that the stress and tension placed upon his body would make every muscle in his body tense and pop out. The position of the platform was well calculated as well, it was in the centre of the room where the majority of the natural light was focused on. The sun wasn’t as intense as it was in midday, but it was still strong enough that nearly every part of Varro’s beautiful body was illuminated. The candles and incense made a seductive feature too, the meagre tendrils of smoke seemed to caress and explore Varro, as lovingly and eagerly as any woman would. Neavia knew that what she was looking at was a living erotic art piece, but it still seemed like a fitting tribute for the gods. It was a living testament that there was such a thing as perfection in this world.

Why couldn’t Crixus be displayed like this? Naevia thought resentfully. Crixus was the only man who was as heavily muscled as Varro was but the only time she could lovingly stare at his physique was either when he bested an opponent in the arena, when he would roar at the heavens given the audience a good look at his muscular, sweat soaked body, or when she just jealously looked as Lucretia summoned him to make love to her. It was wrong of her to desire any man to have to endure such humiliation as this, she realised guilty, especially for a man she was beginning to love. She continued to stare at Varro’s naked form pretending it was Crixus when he felt Lucretia impatiently grab her, beckoning her to follow her as she went to welcome her guest.

Neavia was following wordlessly as Lucretia bid Ilithyia welcome. The noblewoman seemed to care very little for the company of her host. She was walking quickly towards the balcony so she could look upon the gladiators training. Lucretia was following her quickly, irritated that Iliythia was going to see her surprise without much fanfare from her. Naevia was struggling to keep up with the long strides of the tall Romen women. Neavia heard the woman make a noise that was a cross between a gasp and a giggle. She stared at Varro posing silently on the platform, seemingly unable to tell whether it was a vision or a piece of artwork. It was only on closer inspection that she realized it was a man made of flesh and blood and she proceeded to burst into a fit of irritating giggles.  
“Oh, Lucretia. You shouldn’t have!” Lucretia grinned satisfied at that; this was exactly the reaction that she wanted.

“I thought you might enjoy it.” Lucretia replied.

Ilithyia was walking over to the painted, naked man. She raised her hands teasingly to him. Varro remembering how the woman had molested and humiliated him weeks ago started to breathe in quickly. This made the hard-sculpted muscles of Varro’s chest and stomach rise and fall more rapidly, entertaining and exciting Ilithyia even more. She giggled sensing the effect her presence had on him. Her fingers got even closer to him and before they made contact with the vulnerable man, she moved them away at the last second. Instead her hands would follow the smoke that traced his body, her fingers never more than a few millimetres away from the firm flesh. She teased the slave like this for a few minutes before she looked up at the man, she then examined the mask he was wearing.

“He dons the Visage of Apollo, yes?” She asked and Lucretia promptly nodded, “An exquisite choice.” She complimented. Not clarifying whether she meant the god to honour or the man to admire.

“The god of the sun.” She continued, her hands where still proceeding with the mock examination of Varro’s body. As her hand lingered over Varro’s large bicep, almost thrice the size of her husband, she couldn’t maintain the patient to tease the man anymore. Her hand grabbed onto the firm flesh and squeezed hard. She moaned in pleasure, Varro body was even larger and tighter from when she first enjoyed touching his firm flesh.

She let go of the man and stood back, admiring him. She started to walk behind him, this made Varro very nervous, as he couldn’t see what the woman was doing. Presently, she was enjoying the sight of his ass, more well sculpted than any of the statues in Rome. She ogled his back for a while longer before returning to the front of Varro. She turned to Lucretia smiling.

“Gratitude, Lucretia. I’ve never felt so close to the gods,” she slinked closer to Varro again, “Perhaps, we should pay homage to them. They might see fit to end this drought.” With that she bent over before the mock altar and kissed Varro’s feet. This mock tribute made Varro feel embarrassed, he almost moved until he saw the glare from Lucretia. He remained perfectly still as Iliythia continued to kiss his feet. She grew bolder and proceeded to lick his toes. Eventually, her lips started to explore his lower legs.

“Apollo, God of the sun,” she muttered to herself, as she continued to explore Varro’s legs, her mouth was now leaving a trace of kisses and bites along the inner part of his muscular thighs, “but also the god of medicine.” She stopped her exploration of Varro, her face now directly in front of the man’s smooth groin.

“Does this mean that certain parts of his body have healing properties?” She said smiling. She then kissed the tip of Varro’s large penis. She withdrew her head laughing at Varro’s reaction as he jolted at the feeling.

“Lucretia, I thought I was to be given audience with the gods, but this man seems as skittish as a girl,” smiling she moved to her hands to the back of Varro, one hand stroking and squeezing his ass. It was as smooth and firm as gold metal, Iliythia thought approvingly. She let one of her fingertips gently trace the tight crack of the man’s buttocks. As her hand finished exploring that part of Varros body she continued on, her left-hand gliding along his perineum, her sharp fingernails tracing the sensitive flesh. Finally, her hand took hold of Varros testicles, she looked up smiling at him. Suddenly her grip turned vice like, Varro endured the pain for as long as he could. But the pain, coupled with the intense heat and the difficult pose he had been given to maintain, caused him to fall of the platform.

Varro landed in a crumbled heap on the marble floor, he only felt embarrassed at first. Then he perked up in horror when he remembered how Lucretia had promised to punish him if he had failed in any way. He got to his knees and looked up pleadingly at his Domina. Even though the mask obscured his eyes, Lucretia could see that Varros blues eyes had grown as big and as pleading as a puppy.

He needn't have bothered, Lucretia was a cruel woman, but she wasn’t insane, the blame for this was singularly on Ilithyia. She had wanted this to happen. Lucretia was staggered at the woman’s audacity; she had never been so bold with Crixus even when they were in total privacy. Lucretia looked irritably at the mess around Varro, at the scattered candles. All that effort to create mystique ruined in seconds. Still, she could see the glee and pleasure in Ilithyia’s eyes. The primary objective of pleasing the spoilt little bitch had been achieved. Lucretia just wished of all the people she had to manipulate it didn’t have to be one so bratty.

As Varro remained on his knees, Iliythia approached him and started to pet him like a dog. Her fingers flowed through Varros golden hair. She enjoyed playing with his curls for a few seconds, before her grip tightened.

“It seems your man is quite ill trained in the erotic arts. His prudish ways undid your hard work. He should be punished.” Ilithyia said sternly.

“Doctore will see that the main is disciplined.” Lucretia said seemingly in agreement, while wanting to throttle the bitch.

“Your Nubian man?” Iliythia burst out laughing, to Lucretia’s surprise and confusion “No, Lucretia. I offer to discipline the man.”

“You?!” Lucretia said, incredulously.

“Both my father and husband are leaving the family villa unattended. The villa and all those who reside in it will be under my command.” She explained. Lucretia forced a smile to her face.

“Ilithyia,” Lucretia said as diplomatically and politely as she could, “Varro bears my husband mark. It is for him to decide what punishment to inflict upon him.”

“In matters of the gladiatorial arts, perhaps,” Ilithyia said “But this was in the arts of pleasure. Your man is ill trained to entertain the elite of Capua and satisfy their appetites. I’ll make sure that he’s well trained by the end of his stay.” Lucretia was furious, that this little bitch would dare presume to take command of her husbands’ man. Ilithyia failing to either notice or care at Lucretia’s obvious anger continued.

“I shall see that your husbands well compensated for the loss of your man for the next few days,” she moved closer to Lucretia “And I will tell all my closest friends about the delights offered at the house of Batatius.” Lucretia paused at that. _The bitch has me_ , Ilithyia knew some of the wealthiest members of the republic, a word from her could see the gold flow like wine into her husband coffers.

Varro was panicking now; he was terrified of what fate awaited him should Lucretia consent to Ilithyia’s demands. His heavy breathing could be heard even from the mask covering his face. Lucretia looked at him. She didn’t want to offer Varro up to Iliythia, her husband was right he was the best purchase the ludus had acquired in years. She even felt sympathy for the man as a human being, being forced to sell oneself into slavery after a life as a free Roman citizen. If she didn’t have Batatius protection that could have been her fate lacking neither high birth or wealth growing up. There was another factor, Varro was a naïve, innocent soul whatever Iliyhtia had planned for him it had the potential of damaging his mind, greatly reducing his value to the ludus. On the other being placed under such cruel hands could destroy the last trace of the freedman in Varro and he could come back a much more obedient slave. It was a gamble but, considering the certainty of the money flowing to the ludus no matter the outcome for Varro, it was a one Lucretia was willing to make.

She curtly nodded.

“You may have him.” Hearing this, Varro sank into the ground, sobs coming from the man. Ilithyia ran over to Lucretia giddy as a girl and kissed Lucretia.

“Thank you.” Iliythia breathlessly said in excitment, beaming in self-satisfaction.

“When do you want to take him?” Lucretia inquired politely

“At days end. You’ve prepared a fine meal, Lucretia. I would hate to be rude.”

Ilithya then indicated towards Varro, presently still absorbing the news he was going to be this perverted woman’s property for the next week.

“Do you have anything you require from Varro? Does he still have training to complete? I’d prefer to have him by my side as we feast.”

“Varro is your man now, until you return with him beginning of next week,” Lucretia smiled, “he is yours to do with as you please.” Varro whimpered at that hoping for a few hours reprieve from his humiliation at this woman’s hands. Iliythia smiled at that. She produced a collar which she put around Varros neck, next she attached the collar to a rope.

As Iliythia walked over to the table Varro was forced to crawl beside her on his hands and knees like a dog. He was still wearing his mask but now rather than looking majestic it looked rather comical on man in such a humiliating position. As Iliythia reclined on the couch in front of the table she tied the leash Varro was attached to around the leg of the table. Lucretia lay on the couch facing Ilithyia. The table had many delicious looking foods on it. Varros stomach growled at it but he feared little of it would be offered to him. Varro wanted to sit normally on the floor but ilithyia decided that he should sit on his knees, it made him look like a dog begging for a treat, to Ilythia’s amusement.

The meal went rather civil by Ilithyia’s standards. She proved to be a rather decent conversationalist for the most part, but she couldn’t maintain her attention on one topic for long. She mainly left poor Varro alone. Occasionally she would rub some of her food on his magnificent physique to flavour it, she took a piece of bread dipped in honey and rubbed it along Varros tight six pack before eating it, later she took a grape and rubbed it along Varros nipples before popping it in her mouth.  
The meal was almost finished, and the sun had started to go down. By this point Ilithyia had grown bored again. She started to begin petting Varro, a wicked thought came to her.

“Lucretia?” She smiled evilly.

“Yes, Iliythia?” Lucretia inquired.

“You’ve boasted about the discipline of your husband men before. Have you not?”

“There's none like them in the republic.” Lucretia replied proudly.

“Then let us test such a claim.”

“Do you wish to see Varro be tested on the training yard?” Iliythia laughed at that.

“No, Lucretia. I don’t wish to see the man perform in a physical challenged. I want to test him in more sensual matters. Like I said, he is ill-disciplined in matters of pleasure.”

“…and how do you wish for him to be tested?”

“It’s very simple, we shall see how long it takes for him to succumb to his baser urges and spill his seed with a woman.” Iliythia was already aroused at the mere thought of it.

“Do you wish for him to lie with another woman again?” But Iliythia didn’t respond at that, she only smiled and told Lucretia.

“Summon a woman and fetch a rope, strong enough to hold a man. You shall see.” Lucretia bristled at being given orders in her own house, but she indulged the women anyway. She commanded Naevia to procure what Ilythia wanted.

As she waited Iliythia continued to pet Varro. The Roman man for his part was as tense as a statue. He was sick of the “pleasures” offered at the house of Batatius. He had felt more joy when he lay beside his wife holding her, than he had ever felt in the Ludus.

When Naevia returned holding a rope and escorting a naked slave girl Iliythia excitedly got up. She quickly removed the collar on Varro and removed his mask. When she did Iliythia laughed at him. Varros face was plastered in sweat, flushed from having to wear the hot confining mask for hours on end. His eyes where red from when he had fought back the tears when he was told he would be given over to Iliythia’s pleasure for a week. It made a comical contrast to his exquisitely toned physique, accentuated by the smooth gold paint applied to very crevice of it. Even now it was producing feelings in Ilithyia with every twitch of his body.

“You are no longer a god, gladiator,” she told him as she placed his mask on the table, “You’re now nothing more than a common slave to serve at the pleasure of your masters.” She smiled smugly at him, then kissed him. Her tongue thoroughly explored Varros mouth before she broke the kiss off. It was ready for Varros trial to begin.

Firstly, she bound the rope around his wrists. She then tugged at the rope forcing Varro to follow her until they where standing directly beneath a beam. She then signalled to a guard to come to her. He looked puzzled at the request but when he glanced at his employer’s wife, she indicated that the spoilt highborn guest should be obeyed. He walked over and Iliythia explained what she wanted him to do.

He was to throw the rope over the beam and pull, as hard as he could, until the slave was off the ground. The guard looked at Varro the man was enormous, tall and very muscular, such a feat was beyond him. He signalled some other guards to come and help him. Varro said nothing but glared at the men approaching him. After the men swung the rope over the beam they then tugged at the rope. Varro immediately felt himself being lifted sharply by the rope around his wrists. The guards where surprised by how hard the work was and promptly dropped Varro. The sharp noise of Varros bare feet connecting with ground pierced the air of the Ludus. The men embarrassed tried again and this time where able to hold Varro up long enough for one of the men to wrap the rope around a nearby column.

Varros muscular arms immediately felt the strain of holding his entire body. Iliythia thought she was beyond being impressed by the strong muscles on this handsome slave but , even still, she stopped to take in the sight of his enormous muscles bulging out from the man’s limbs. She stared at him, he wasn’t very high in the air, his toes where only a few inches off the ground. But even still, it was humiliating and painful and that was all that was needed to distract the man.

Ilithyia beckoned to Lucretia’s nude female slave. The rules where simple this was a test of Varros stamina. To see how long he could be pleasured before releasing his seed. If he could restrain himself for the designated time, he would be allowed to eat some of the exotic dishes at the table. She then signalled for the slave girl to take up position in front of Varro.

Varro looked down at the slave who had been assigned to him, unlike the woman he had been forced to couple with at the night of the Vulcanalia, this girl was nervous looking. Smiling shyly up at the big man in front of her. Varro for his part forgot the pain in his arms and the extreme humiliation he had endured today and felt pity for this poor woman. He tried to smile reassuringly at her, but it was a hallow gesture. He could do nothing for her. The two slave’s brief connection was interrupted by Iliythia, who impatiently grabbed hold off the pretty petite girl and shoved her face closer to Varros groin. Indicating that she was to begin. Hesitantly she took Varros large cock into her mouth and began her task.

For the next minutes, Iliythia greedily took in the sight of Varro struggling to complete his trial. She heard a series of moans, sighs and groans as he resisted the urge to climax with all his will power, she saw how the toes of his cute feet curl in pleasure and how he would on occasion involuntarily thrust his hips forward. The woman looked innocent, but she was skilled in her trade, it shouldn’t be much longer until the Roman slave finished.

A few more minutes and it had yet to happen. Varros willpower was surprisingly strong. He was close to breaching the designated time, Ilithyia didn’t want a slave to have a victory over her, however minor. So, she decided to add some stimuli to the roman man. She picked up a stick and gently ran it along the broad, muscled back of the slave. She started at the base of his neck, then ran it along his spine then continued the sticks journey along the middle of the slaves buttocks finishing at the bottom of his crack, she then raised the stick upwards until it reached his neck. She repeated this process for a few more minutes, Varro moaned but gritted his teeth refusing to give into the roman noblewoman.

Eventually, the designated time period passed. Iliythia with a frustrated sigh stopped teasing the Roman man. She stepped back from the two slaves. She informed Varro that he had won the trial. Varro despite currently being tortured by the two opposite feelings of both intense pleasure and pain being inflicted on him simultaneously sighed in relief.

This feeling was short lived as Iliythia gleefully informed him that the woman was not permitted to stop until he released his seed into her. Varro blinked, that wasn’t fair, he had won the woman’s sick game, but he knew there was no point in protesting. Lucretia certainly wasn’t going to intervene and tell Ilithyia no. So he sighed, relaxed and allowed nature to take its course. It didn’t take very long for the slave woman to make Varro orgasm. After the task was complete the woman got up and left the room to go to her normal household tasks as it nothing had happened. Ilithyia let Varro hang by his arms, enjoying watching the muscular limbs straining to bear their owners weight for a few more minutes before she personally took a knife and cut the rope suspending him over the ground.

Varro fell to the ground, landing on his stomach. He felt the blood return to his hands, and he was surprised by how much it hurt him. He tried to gently rub his wrists, but he was interrupted by a sharp slap to his ass delivered by Iliythia who indicated to the slave that he was to get up and follow her immediately. Iliythia annoyed at having lost her game to a slave didn’t bother to reattach his collar or put his mask back on. She walked quickly, with Varro following her.  
Lucretia was still reclining on her couch, bored, when she saw Ilithyia return. The Roman noblewoman looked annoyed. Lucretia looked darkly at Varro who was obediently walking behind her. If he had failed to please her…

“Ilithyia, I hope my man performed to your satisfaction.”

“He exceeded them,” Iliythia replied, curtly.

She walked over to the table and piled a collection of fruit and meats onto her plate. She indicated to Varro that he should approach her. When he got close to her stunned that it looked like Iliythia was honouring her word to reward him. He should have know there was going to be a humiliating twist to the rewards, Iliythia commanded that he sit on the ground. When he did so, Ilithyia added that he was to place his hands behind his head. Varro blinked confused, how was he to eat like this? Iliythia sensing his confusion, just smiled at him.

Ilithyia took a strawberry from her plate and placed it in Varro’s mouth. Varro realised horrified that she was going to feed him. He swallowed the sweet fruit, but Ilithyias fingers where still lingering in his mouth. He sighed, figuring out what she wanted him to do, he was to suck and lick the juices off her fingers. He reluctantly obeyed, Iliythia giggled in delight as the burly man, who was twice her size, licked her fingers like a dog. She picked up the next piece of the slave’s meal with a flourish and began to place it into his mouth.

Lucretia watched the bizarre meal unfold with a mixture of bored detachment and curiosity. How much pleasure could Iliythia possibly be getting from this? She and Crixus would on occasion lick the juices from fruit off each other, he licked it off her nipples, while she would lick it off his muscles but it was nothing like what was she was witnessing from Iliythia right now. Surely the novelty would wear off soon? Evidently, not as illythia placed suckling lamb into Varro’s mouth as he sucked the hot juices from her fingers. Occasionally she would spice things up by licking the juices off him. Right now, Illythia had deliberately burst a grape over his mouth she drew her finger over Varro’s full lips, and she placed her finger in her mouth and sucked. She was having so much fun playing with him that she didn’t even notice when her plate was emptied.

Ilithyia conversed with Lucretia for a little while after. Most of the conversation was about her week with Varro. They negotiated the price Iliythia would pay for taking her husbands finest recruit out of commission for a week, Lucretia got Iliythia too agree to a vastly inflated price. She could not tell if it was her husband’s business acumen and negotiating skills rubbing off on her or Iliythia was just so obscenely rich that she simply didn’t care. Lucretia had made Iliythia swear that there would be no serious harm or injury done to the man. Iliythia just laughed the older woman's concern, she assured Lucretia that the last thing she wanted to do was to leave a single scar or bruise on the man’s beautiful body.

Lucretia sensing that Ilithyia wanted to leave to play with her latest toy at her own villa, instructed her slaves to take Varro to the baths to clean off the gold paint on his body. Iliythia interrupted her, since Varro was now her slave for the next week and she was in charge of his care she wanted to be the one to remove the gold paint. They could do it right there at the main room of the villa, with the ceremonial pool that was only deep enough to hold water a few inches deep at most. Iliythia thought it was a delightful prospect. She would have another chance to paw at Varro, while hammering into the slave’s mind that his body was hers to control and touch as she pleased. She enjoyed the process of cleaning and scrapping the paint off at first but when she realised it involved actual hard work, she quickly delegated the task to Lucretia’s slaves to finish. Lucretia rolled her eyes at that, she told Naevia to finish the task herself. Lucretia couldn’t be bothered with sending for another slave girl to finish cleaning Varro.

As Naevia approached him Varro tensed up. He knew that being a slave was not a guarantee of humility or that they would emphasise with him. They constant groping and fondling he had endured throughout the last few weeks was a testament to that. He expected Naevia, the body slave to the Domina of the house to be the cruellest and coldest of all the slaves. Instead he was surprised to see how nervous and quiet she was. She found the process of cleaning the paint off his body to be as embarrassing and awkward as he did. When it came to scrub the paint off his groin, she hesitated and looked at him giving him a short apologetic smile. Lucretia barked at her to quicken up her pace. Soon Varro had the last of the flecks of gold removed from him.  
Iliythia decided she liked the natural look of Varro just as much as she enjoyed the painted artificial look of the gold paint. She walked over to him and rested her face on his sinewy shoulder, she gently nibbled the healthy, smooth skin, bronzed by the Capua sun. She breathed in his fresh, natural scent. Her hand started to caress the side of his body, she left her hand to gently rest on his hip.

“Oh, Varro. What joys we shall explore together.” Ilithyia promised as she continued to touch him. Varro had tensed and straightened up again. He looked at Lucretia pleading one last desperate time. His Domina ignored him.

“Is there any of his effects that you want to bring with you? Weapons, sandals, Subligaria?” Lucretia asked, Iliythia just looked at her.

“Effects?” she laughed at that. “Lucretia, as long as he is under my care, I swear to you, there will not be a single thread hiding his beauty from the world.” Varro’s face reddened at the thought he would be spending the entirety of his week with the noblewoman naked.

As Iliythia began to leave, she seemed to have a change of mind, she told Varro he would have something to wear after all. The hope in Varro’s face was the sweetest thing Ilithyia had seen in a long time. She almost felt guilty for breaking it when she produced a collar to go around Varro. She couldn’t help but laugh at the sulky look he gave her as the collar was secured around his neck and a thin chain was attached to it.

Iliythia began to walk, Varro was instructed to walk the length of the chain behind her. As the doors of the villa opened, Iliythia quickly turned around to kiss Lucretia on the cheek and thanked her for all she had done for her. As Lucretia looked at Varro’s heavenly body depart from the villa, the last time they would see the unfortunate man for a week, both slave and mistress had almost the exact same thought, why couldn’t they spend a week frolicking with Crixus?

The champion of Capua was presently beating one of the lasts recruits to a pulp. He was the last of the men Batatius had recruited that had not been killed or sent to the mines or the pits. All accept Varro, who had proven himself to be a man worthy of belonging to the brotherhood and carrying the mark of the house of Batatius. He wondered what he was doing? Had he been chosen by the noble woman, Iliythia, to fuck? If so, he should count himself lucky. Crixus had found it emasculating and embarrassing to be used by a woman like that at first, he imagined it would be even worse for Varro as he had a women waiting for him but it had its privileges. Crixus was certain he would not have advanced so high if Lucretia had not advocated on his behalf to her husband at every turn. He saw Iliythia leave the villa and enter the yard to leave the Ludus. The guards where already unlocking the gates to let her out. The woman looked very satisfied, Crixus grinned at that. Until he saw the woman was holding a chain and attached to the end of it was Varro.

The whole yard quietened when they saw the burly gladiator being led by a leash naked. A few snickered but only a few. Most of the men where angered at the humiliation the Roman man was being forced to endure, Varro had quickly earned the respect of even the most senior gladiators of the Ludus and they were horrified to see the man being paraded like a cheap whore. Varro for his part lowered his head in shame and was walking as quietly as he could. He tried to avoid looking at any of the men but as he walked through the gates his eyes met with Crixus.

Varro breather a sigh of relief as heard the metal gates of the Ludus slam shut behind him. Happy that the men who had swiftly become his brothers could no longer look upon like this. As Iliythia stepped onto her carriage, Varro moved to get on with her, until she stopped him with a gesture. A beast of the sands was not fit share a seat with a senator’s daughter, she explained. Instead his collar would be attached to a chain connected to the carriage. Varro groaned but accepted this latest humiliation.  
The ground was blisteringly hot beneath his bare feet, Ilythias carriage moved at a snail’s pace as it navigated the walkways leading from Batatius Ludus on the top of the mountain down to the city below. Varro almost wished the carriage would move at a brisker pace as he had to walk very slowly. Thankfully the route was little travelled, and few people passed them. Does that did gave Varro and his nudity nothing but a curious cursory glance for the most part, some did give Varro a few lustful looks but they saw the expensive carriage he was attached, obviously belonging to nobility and decided that they didn’t want to make powerful enemies by touching or molesting him. Iliythia for her part was staring out the back of her carriage to gaze at the naked man attached to it. As much as she enjoyed looking at his bare form she found delight in looking at the extreme embarrassment on the mans face. She enjoyed looking at the subtle details in the mans face such as the way Varro was trying to hide how much pain the walk though the baking road was causing him.

They reached the bottom of the mountain and where currently navigating the outskirts of Capua. Varro was grateful that the hard, baking ground beneath his feet was replaced by cool grass. There where prices for such joys of course. The outskirts of Capua were much busier, and his humiliation was being witnessed by a much larger crowd of people. He heard laughter directed at him. Iliythia smirked at that, she happily would give him something else to think about. She instructed her driver to lash the horses, Varro instantly felt the sharp increase of speed, he bolted at first but quickly settled into a comfortable pace. Iliythia just smiled at the fitness of her new pet, her mind brimming with ideas of what to do to him, and instructed her driver to whip the horses yet again, Varro was suddenly running at a brisk pace as he travelled nude to Iliythia’s father villa in the country.

Iliythia had wanted to see the blonde man struggle. Varro had a physique that looked like it was more suited for fighting than running, bulky and heavily muscled in contrast to the sleek, lithe, lean physiques than she normally associated with runners but Varro surprised her with his speed and stamina. Varro’s movements where quick and seemingly effortless, only the grimaces of pain and exhaustion on the mans handsome face indicated how trialling he found the ordeal.

Iliythia had been hoping for Varro to make a comical spectable of himself, she had anticipated that he would stumble and trip behind her carriage. Instead the blonde man was proving what a strong animal he was and rather than sulk at being proven wrong she settled for the show in front of her. Varro’s large pecs and abs, currently glistening with sweat, seemed to be bouncing he was running so quickly and so hard. His large cock was swinging with every stride of his thick, muscled legs.

Varro almost didn’t stop as they approached the villa, he was concentrating so hard on running that he hadn’t even notice the carriage slowing down. When his journey had come to an end Varro almost collapsed, he was taking in breaths as rapidly as possible. He made a sorry sight he knew. After the extensive cleaning he had undergone today he was again filthy. The dirt kicked up by the carriage’s wheels and by his own feet pounding the ground had left him covered in a fine coating of yellow grit and dirt. When he had sucked in enough air to regain his composure he looked up at his surroundings and his jaw dropped in shock.

The villa belonging to Iliythia’s father was massive, it dwarfed the villa owned by Batatius by several orders of magnitude. The building was surrounded by opulent well-maintained gardens. He saw before them a table had been laid out for their arrival. It had been set out with many delicacies and refreshments. Iliythia was currently being attended to by a slave who was pouring her a glass of wine. She glanced at Varro and in a rare moment of mercy offered him a glass of cool water.  
Iliythia looked at the slaves who had been sent to greet her. She smiled at one in particular, an old Greek man. He was her father former body slave, the demands placed upon her father were endless, so much so that he very rarely ever saw his own home. He needed someone to look after it in his stead, someone he could trust, to that end he freed his most trusted slave and set him to task of caring for it in his place. The old man had been informed by his master that Iliythias passions where her own concern and she could indulge them provided she was discreet enough to keep them private. He glanced at Varro noting both his nudity and how dirty he was, he instantly realised that he had been forced to run naked through the entirety of their journey. He sighed, could the woman not practise discretion? He looked at the man, he knew judging by how muscular he was that he could only be a gladiator. They had proven to be Ilithyia’s obsession and now she had one under her care.

“A new purchase, my lady?" he enquired politely.

“More of a loan, Posca.” She replied.

“And is he the man to fight for our entertainment or to be used for other forms of pleasures?”

“Pleasure, of course. What other reason?” Ilithyia smiled knowingly. The old man smiled back, he looked again at the gladiator. For a man who sole business was fighting and killing, there seemed to be something rather innocent and boyish about him. He was obviously embarrassed and distressed about his nudity, fidgeting and resisting the urge to try to cover himself with his hands. After a short time under the care of Iliythia he would lose all concerns about his dignity he had no doubt. He was staring wide eyed at his surroundings. The old man almost felt sorry for him, but he smiled at Iliythia and replied.

“Very good, my lady.”


	4. The beginning of Varros Stay

The sun was setting when Iliythia had returned to her father’s villa. The weather, which had been roasting for most of the day, was now beginning to turn quite cool. Iliythia was given a shawl to wrap around herself by a beautiful woman, the same woman who had poured Iliyhtia her glass of wine. From how close yet deferential the woman was towards Iliythia Varro assumed that she was the noblewoman’s main body slave. Ilythia was ordering the servants who had greeted her to light the torches in the villa, in that haughty irritating tone of hers, only to be informed by an old Greek man that they had already done so. 

Varro for his part was still attached to the carriage he had been forced to run behind. He was still lying on the ground, still trying to catch his breath after his exhausting ordeal. A cool breeze made him shiver, Varro was still in the nude, the only protection he had against the elements was the collar around his neck. The sweat drenching his body was starting to cool rapidly. After he had rested for a short time longer Varro got to his feet. 

Iliythia was still greeting her father’s oldest favoured servants and she was ignoring Varro for the moment. Varro was still nervous about what Iliythia had planned for him. He was aware of how pathetic he most look to the well-dressed inhabitants of the villa, with him being naked, dirty and collared like an animal. The old Greek man in particular seemed irritated by his presence. He needed a distraction and so he started to walk around as much as the chain he was attached to would permit and he began to look around. He wasn’t as quite in awe of his surroundings as when he first laid his eyes upon them but even still he was amazed at the opulence around him, beside the enormous size of the villa the gardens around the building where luxurious. They were adorned with pools, fountains and were impeccably manicured. Varro growing up had often assumed the medium sized Villas owned by the likes of the house of Batatius where the height of wealth but compared the home of Senator Albinus, the ludus he belonged to looked small and mean.

Iliythia having finished greeting the main household of the villa turned her attention towards Varro. The roman man was currently walking around the carriage looking wide eyed at his surroundings. She laughed at that, she was aware that Varro was of roman origins, his tongue and accent gave that away, but it was obvious he was born to base stock. She doubted he had even served at the house of nobility before. She saw that he was shivering, to her amusement.

Iliythia walked over to Varro, who tensed up when he saw the woman who had so cruelly tormented him approach him. He flinched as she raised her hands to him certain that she was going to touch or molest him again only to feel a sense of relief when she detached the chain connecting him to the chariot. For a second, Varro thought he would be permitted the dignity to walk freely at least until he saw Iliythia produce another much shorter and thinner chain, the one she had led him by. She reattached it to the burly man’s collar. Another cool breeze send Varro shivering. Iliythia cooed to notice.

“Poor thing, are you cold? Don’t worry I’ll take you into the villa where it’s nice and warm” With that Iliythia started to walk to the entrance of the villa. Varro stood motionless afraid for a few seconds, he didn’t want to follow the cruel roman woman; he didn’t want to be subject to any more degradations or humiliations. A sharp pull of his collar reminded him he had no choice, so he reluctantly followed her.

They made a striking pair both mistress and slave where tall and blonde but that’s where the similarities ended. Iliythia was slender whereas Varro was big and burly, her eyes where calculating and cruel, while Varro’s where guileless and frightened, she was dressed only in the finest clothes while Varro was naked and covered in dirt, she was walking confidently while Varro was slowly shuffling behind her.

Iliythias body slave was normally sympathetic to her fellow slaves, but she couldn’t deny the sight of the heavily muscled man obediently following her slim mistress was a powerful image. She would give anything to have that much power over another human. Especially one so handsome as her Dominas new pet. She wondered if she would have a chance to lie with the man, it seemed likely. Ever since Iliythia had returned from her party hosted by the lanista’s wife she had grown fond of forcing her slaves to engage in coitus for her amusement. The body slave smiled at the thought. As Iliythia approached the marble stairs to enter her villa the old Greek man, politely interrupted her.

“My lady?” he said in a deferential tone. Iliythia turned and looked at the former slave.

“Yes, Posca?”

“Are you not sure, you would not prefer your “guest” to be bathed first before entering the villa?” Posca looked at Varro, he definitely disliked him. The blonde man was not only an object of distraction for his good friends’ daughter, especially now she was married and had to provide an heir for her husband, but he also found the man to be rather vulgar looking. It wasn’t just the sweat and dirt on his body that he found barbaric, that could be easily washed off. It was also the enormous cock between his legs, as a Greek he found the image rather uncivilized and obscene looking.

“The baths you say?” Iliythia looked at the Varro’s dirty body. “No, by no means. I prefer him to stay the way he is.”

Iliythia wasn’t simply being cruel in choosing to leave Varro in his current condition. She was more concerned with her pleasure than the dignity of her pet. She deeply enjoyed the look of Varro in his current state, dirty and wild looking, it was what she wanted to see in a gladiator. Their wild, visceral nature reflected in their appearance. She had appreciated the lengths Lucretia had gone to prepare Varro for her viewing pleasure and as deeply arousing as she found the appearance of the man painted and scented, she got just as much pleasure from seeing him like this. The mix of sand, dirt and grime mixing with his sweat had created a yellowish sheen that accentuated his beautiful musculature just as much as the golden paint had.

The Greek man sighed at her decision but politely bowed to her. With that, Iliythia renewed her walk into the villa. She took a few steps before she felt a snag on the chain. She turned around irritably to see that her pet gladiator had frozen, seemingly as immobile as a statue. She at first thought it was a sign of defiance or impertinence from the slave towards his owner but then she saw his eyes. They were wide and glazed and seemingly vacant. It reminded her of when she was small girl and her father had taken her to her first gladiator match, she had found the sights and sounds to be wonderful, but her cousin had frozen in shock at the gory sight. It was so bad that her uncle had thought the girl afflicted with a curse and had to promptly leave the match. But she had been a craven, stupid girl, what could frighten a beast of the sand so? 

As she walked over to the man, a delightful thought occurred to her. 

_Do I frighten him so?_ She thought, she thought absurd, humorous, and rather erotic. Having a creature as strong as this so terrified of her made her feel very extremely powerful. 

It was a correct assumption, Varro had recovered enough from the torturous and humiliating run to regained his breathe and his senses and now recomposed it finally dawned on him. This was truly happening, he was truly the property of this cruel, perverted woman and he was now walking toward her villa, towards her domain. Were doubtlessly he would be forced to endure many more degradations and suffering, all for the pleasure of the nobleman leading him around like he was prized livestock. 

It wasnt supposed to be like this, he was supposed to train hard at the ludus, fight with honour and win both freedom and coin to free his family from the bondage of debt. He was sure Aurelia would be proud of him and not ashamed for taking part in the cruelties of the games, she was a gentle soul and had never watched a gladiator game, but she would be proud that he had not taken the cowards route of fleeing Capua and earned the coin to repay his debts with honour. He had no doubt she would never witness her husband engage in acts of brutality and violence upon the sands. She might even be pleased by the changes in his body, Varro had always boasted a muscular physique and he knew his wife had always immensely enjoyed looking at and touching him. Now after months of harsh, grueling non-stop training his body was leaner, broader and more toned then he ever thought possible. It had been in his dreams than once he gained his freedom he would would greet his family in deceptively loose clothing and, after he played with his son enough to satisfy him after a year without his father, he and Aurelia would retreat to their bedchamber and she would gasp at her husbands hard, rippling form and they would make love and live rich, happy and free. 

Such a thought now seemed a ludicrous fantasy. Varro was as filthy as an animal and as exposed as the cheapest of whores. He was more aware of his nudity than ever and of how he had been forced to run without for miles without so much as a subligaria to preserve his dignity. He shouldn't be that surprised of his treatment, gladiators were just as much creatures of beauty and lust as they were of valor and strength, he was aware of that even before his forced performance. He had seen during his times attending a match or betting that gladiators would flex their oiled muscles at the crowd as women would propose and scream and expose themselves to them. He had simply assumed that it wouldn't happen to him, that his roman blood would offer him some protection but he had been wrong. 

During his run he had focused so hard on running as quickly as possible and not being dragged behind the carriage that he didnt have time to notice any details but now they were returning to him. As he thought back to his run and the certain markets he passed he saw fat old men enviously stare at him, resenting him his youth and fitness, women old enough to be his mother ogling him and children laughing at the absurd sight of a naked, hairless man running by them. That memory elicited another fear. 

_Please let Janus be spared from seeing me like that._ He knew his wife liked to take their son out to the market near their home, it was the only place where they could go and where he would have freedom to play and he wasn't sure if he passed it during his run. He was quite sure his wife would understand the degrading and humiliating sight her husband had made, he was slave and the protections of the law offered to the citizens of the republic no longer applied to him, but no son should have to bear witness to his fathers shame. 

Varro gave no indication he was thinking of an this to Iliythia who continued to look at him in a bemusement state. She personally had found the run a wonderful idea, it had gotten Varro filthy and so sweaty he could have been oiled and it had allowed her to show off her acquisition to the world. His smooth, tanned skin, his large, toned muscles, his enormous cock. For the next week she was resolute he would be nude the entirety of his stay and there was nearby villages and markets where she couldnt wait to show him off. She started to grow impatient towards his state of shock and pulled at his chain to wake him up. Varro became dimly aware of the sensation and he looked in front of him. It was the cruel noblewoman and the villa she was taking him towards. As he looked ahead he squinted, perhaps his mind was playing tricks but the dimensions of the building seemed to have changed. The entrance to the interior of the villa, previously somewhat small to his eyes, was now cavernous in size, like an entrance to hell.

Iliythia had run out of patience entirely, she had been patient to wait for Varro to relax but only that had resulted in was his eyes to go from a look of glazed shock to animalistic fear. With an exasperated sigh she walked over to the slave, she noticed his beautiful abdominals were fluttering, whether it was from the cold or fear she did not know, nor did she care. She put her hands on them and started to rub them, the slave barely seemed to notice it. So she smiled and started to rub her other hand on his marble hard ass. That did seem to get his attention, his eyes snapped open and he looked down at his temporary owner. 

"Is their a problem," she asked in mock curiosity as she continued to paw at him, "slave." she made sure her voice emphasized that word. Suddenly, his eyes widened and he realized he had given the woman an excuse to punish him.

"No, Domina. Apologies." He said quickly, hoping to avoid further abuse. He noticed she said nothing at first in response to his apology. She just continued to rub his hard stomach and behind. Then he noticed her fingers move down, creeping over his smooth pubis before they were on the top of his penis. 

"Do you not want to go where it is nice and warm?" She said teasingly as her fingers were now probing along his penis, her middle finger tracing a vein. 

"Yes, i wish to be warm." Was the only reply he could think of. In response, she flicked the tip of his penis with a sharp nail. 

"Then you must act like it," she then looked at him directly in the eye, " or else, i will have to arrange for you to be warmed by my fathers canes, whips and paddles." To emphasis her words she slapped his ass firmly three times in quick succession. 

"Yes, Domina." He replied, glum and red faced. His ears going a crimson to compliment the gold of his hair and the bronze of his skin.

When they had entered Iliythia's home Varro again was stunned by how extravagant the building was, the ceiling was painted with detailed depictions of the gods and ancient battles, artwork that would proudly been the centrepiece of one of Lucretia’s parties was casually displayed. Iliythia saw how impressed the blonde man was with her home. She smiled and stopped besides a torch allowing the heat of the flame to warm Varro up.

“Better?” She inquired, exasperated. As if she had performed a grand gesture to the man.

“Yes, Domina. Gratitude.” Iliythia laughed at how easy it was to make slaves happy. She pulled Varro’s leash bringing his face close to hers and kissed him.

It wasn’t as predatory or forceful as the last several times Iliythia has kissed him. It was gentler, almost like a kiss between lovers. He didn’t want too but as Iliythia grabbed the back of his head and drew him even closer, he closed his eyes and kissed her back. With his eyes shut, he tried to picture his wife but as Iliythias hands began to greedily explore his body the fantasy ended quickly. His wife was a gentle soul, she would never rake the firms mounds of his muscular ass with her nails like Iliythia was doing and rake them with her nails, she wouldn’t forcibly take hold of his wrists and move his hands towards her breasts. Varro knew what Iliythia wanted him to do. He took her breasts in his strong hands and started to gently squeeze and rub them. As the noblewoman moaned Varro’s thumb passed an erect nipple. Iliythia moaned even louder at that, she thought of having the man then and there, but she resisted. She wanted to have a bath first. She broke off the kiss to Varro’s confusion. He wondered if he hadn’t pleased her. Iliythia looked at him longingly, she took his large cock in her hands and lifted it.

“I’ll give you a chance to demonstrate your “gratitude” tonight, slave.” She let Varro’s cock go, sending it tumbling down to his plumb balls. Without saying another word, she resumed leading him by his leash though the villa.  
As they entered her chambers, she was greeted by another body slave. She told the slave that she wanted a warm milk bath prepared for her at once and she told the slave what she was planning to do with Varro tonight. She instructed the slave to make sure that the gladiator was ready to service her after she was done with the bath. The slave nodded and set about her task.

As Iliythia waited for her slaves to fill her bath she took the collar off Varro. In here no one needed to be reminded that he was a slave. The collar had been rather tight, and it had chaffed at Varro’s skin. He was rubbing at the tender flesh when Iliythia started to kiss his neck. Her kissing got more passionate and explorative when another body slave, the beautiful one that had greeted them when they arrived at the villa, interrupted her mistress at her fun to inform her that they needed to take Varro away to prepare him for tonight’s festivities. Iliythia seemed disappointed but understanding it was necessary to part with Varro momentarily. She bid him to follow her slave pawing at his chest one last time before he left the room.

Varro was more aware of his nudity as he walked silently through the enormous villa, he covered himself with his large hands to the disappointment of the slave escorting him. The reached a small supply room, in it the slave produced a root and a small bottle. Varro looked at them inquisitively. The slave explained what they were for. The root was to give Varro energy to make for all he had expended on his run in the countryside, the bottle contained an aphrodisiac potion to make Varro more aroused to better serve his domina.

As Varro chewed the root, he had to admit it was effective, he already felt more energetic. Soon he felt as strong as he had before he Iliythia started his torturous run. The potion effects where less evident, Varro didn’t feel much different, he couldn’t say whether it was his displeasure at being forced to bed a woman besides his wife or something else. The body slave noticed this to, she didn’t want to fail her domina, so she tried something else.

Varro was ordered by the slave to fondle himself until he was hard and erect. Varro growing accustomed to being used like a piece of meat obeyed quickly. Embarrassed at having to do this in front of a women, Varro put his hands around his large cock and pulled and pumped at until it was hard. The slave had deeply enjoyed the show and the power she felt at having this tall, muscular man obey such a humiliating task for her. Is this what it’s like to be a roman? Seeing that the blonde man was erect, the slave produced a ring from the shelves. Varro looked uncertainly at it. He didn’t know how a ring would help please the noblewoman. Varro had time to gasp as he felt the ring being placed around his cock until it fitted around the base. As he looked at the female confused, she explained it was to help him sustain his erection. The body slave looked at him and smiled, he was ready.

Iliythia had finished with her milk bath, she skin was soft and pale after her indulgent soak. That pleased her she felt it suited her and it would make a wonderful contrast to the skin of the blonde man that had bronzed training and exercising under the hot sun of Capua. A thin sheet of silk had been placed over her nude body. At her command one of her body slaves was holding a blindfold over her. She was not permitted to remove it until Varro was in position. She was starting to grow bored as she easily did, when she heard the smack of bare feet on the marble floor of her sleeping chambers. She trembled in anticipation as she felt the blindfold be slowly removed. She slowly opened her eyes and at the foot of her bed was Varro.

Iliythia was pleased that the grime on his body hadn’t been removed, she was worried that some of her staff would interpret to prepare Varro to mean to clean him. Or the pompous old fool, Posca, would have ordered Varro bathed to make appear more civilised. She looked down and saw how hard Varro was, the mans penis was large even when he was standing nude exposed to the night air of her garden and now it appeared gigantic. As she examined him more closely, she saw the reason why, she spotted the ring at the base of his cock. That annoyed her, she didn’t want a single scrap of material on him, she wanted him bare and wild. But she saw that it was the cause of the man’s erection, so she permitted it.

Iliythia was now so close to Varro she could smell him, he smelt earthy and natural. She enjoyed it more that the artificial, sweetened smells that most masters seemed to prefer for their slaves. She started to run her hand along Varro, feeling the large bumps of his stomach and chest, she felt like she was exploring some mountain range. That gave her an idea, she was originally going to pull Varro unto the bed on top of her and having him lie with him in that position but she thought that with such a strong man serving at her pleasure why not try something more unique? She placed her hands around Varro and rather than pull him towards her onto the bed she instead thrust herself onto him. Varro grabbed hold of her, reacting quickly to make sure that she didn’t fall, and she quickly wrapped her legs around him. Varro was momentarily confused by what his mistress wanted until it dawned on him. They were to make love while he held her in the air.

Iliythia was not making things easy for him. She had not allowed him to lean on a wall or some furniture which would have made things easier for him. Instead Varro was to hold Iliythia entirely with his muscled arms, his only help being his natural strength. Iliythia for her part was squealing and thrashing in wild pleasure as he thrust into her. One particular pump had sent waves of pleasure, causing her to arch her back. She grabbed Varro by the hair and forced his head between her breasts. He then began to suck and lick at her nipples sending iliythia even more into uncontrollable throws of pleasure. While Varro’s hands and arms where firmly occupied with holding Iliythia as they fucked, her hands where not so busy, she ran her fingers threw Varro’s soft curly hair, his strong back, his firm ass, any part of him that she could just as long as she could feel him. To know this was not a dream, she truly was bedding a god of the arena. Eventually Iliythia felt herself climax.

Iliythia fell back into the bed laughing with Varro beside her. She signalled her body slave, who had jealously watched everything, to bring her a class of water. She drank it quickly, Varro for his part was hoping that Iliythia would give him some and looked at her. Iliythia saw his pleading expression and laughed, she turned the glass so the remaining contents spilled over Varro body. Iliythia licked some of the water of him enjoying the unique flavour of the water, the grime and Varro’s sweat. Varro for his part was rather hurt, he thought that Iliythia was beginning to like him and he was disappointed that he was still evidently nothing but a toy for her to play with.

Iliythia found Varro’s expression rather endearing, he still had some boyish innocence and naivete despite everything that had been done to him already. Iliythia looked down seeing that the water she spilled had removed some of the grime from Varro, irritated at herself she was comforted by the fact it had made Varro’s muscles nice and wet. She also saw that he was still hard. Smiling at that she moved him to turn over and lie on his back. She got on top of him and started to straddle him. The night was still young, and Varro still had so much energy left in him.

By the time she had finished with Varro, he had made her quake four times. Ilithya collapsed into her pillows ready for sleep, Varro got up and was prepared to be removed to sleep in the slaves quarters. Instead, he was surprised when Iliythia signalled for him to stay. Originally, she had planned to make him sleep on the floor or on the foot of her bed like a dog, but the room was cold, and Varro was nice and warm. She pulled him up close to her and she made him wrap his muscular arms around her. She quickly feel asleep, Varro was still awake. He had felt extraordinarily guilty for betraying his wife like this, he told himself that he was a slave and had no choice, that he sold himself into slavery knowing he would be forced to kill people and how was this any worse? He was a slave, slaves are objects and tools of their masters, to be used for their masters basest desires as well as more honorable services. But regardless, the guilt still gnawed at him. He couldn’t fidget or move in the bed off fear of awaking Iliythia, who was presently moaning his name in her sleep, every word sending a sharp spike of guilt and embarrassment through him. So he just lay silently, closed his eyes until he fell into a weak half sleep. 

Varro was woken by a hand gently closed around his mouth, dawn had just broke and the soft gentle rays of the sun illuminated the room. He saw that it was Iliythias body slave who had woken him. She indicated that he was to keep up and follow her quietly. Varro disentangled from the noblewoman he had serviced as gently and delicately as he could. He gingerly got up and began to follow the slave girl, his bare feet quietly smacking against the floor. He looked at her quizzingly, and asked where he was taken to, the body slave softly whispered that he was being taken to the baths.

Although it was early in the morning there were already slaves going about their business in the villa. Most ignored him, despite. the highly unusual sight of a gladiator walking through the house entirely naked. A few gave him lecherous looks but that was the extent of it. Certainly, it was nothing compared to the grubbing and squeezing he had endured in the house of Batatius but Iliythias father could afford much more well-trained slaves. The house slave who was escorting him was one such slave, she would have given anything to touch the body of the naked gladiator. She had felt more aroused watching her domina and the burly man frolic before her eyes than she ever had in her life. And if it was that good just to watch...... she shuttered to herself. She gently raised one hand to touch Varro but stopped, whimpering at not being able to enjoy even this moment of pleasure.

Varro looked at the woman, curious why she had made that noise. He was surprised how well he felt, after everything he had had endured yesterday, the forced posing on Lucretia’s platform, the miles long run behind Ilithyias carriage he expected to feel horrible. But sleeping in a soft bed, after almost a year of sleeping in the hard floor of his cell had left his body feeling a lot more relaxed. He was happy that he was going to be allowed to bathe too. While the sweat of his time fucking Iliythia and the water she had spilled over him had removed some of the dirt, it wasn’t very much. His body was still covered in grime, especially below his waist.

Varro thought back to the long run behind Iliythias carriage and shuttered. He remembered how his chest and legs had felt like a furnace as he struggled to keep up with Iliythia. He didn’t want to do that again, he didn’t want to endure the pain and exhaustion and he certainly didn’t want to endure the humiliation of his forced naked march again. He tried to put the thought out of his mind it was going to be close to a week before he was returned to Batatius and Lucretia, he should focus on the day at hand.

Varro and the body slave arrived at the baths at the bottom of the ludus. That baths where much larger and deeper than the ones at the ludus. As he prepared to walk into the water, he felt Iliythias slave put her hand on his should stop him. As Varro looked at confused, she explained.

“You are to be given a different kind of cleansing before you are to be allowed to enter the baths."

“Different kind of cleansing? Explain.” Varro demanded feeling like there was a humiliating twist on hand.

“Posca, the Greek who normally runs the ludus has decided that a gladiator is too lustful a creature to run around the ludus. He thinks,” she turned her head blushing, “he thinks that you must be cleansed both inside and out”

“Inside?” Varro repeated suspiciously. Then he got rather offended, he was “Lustful”. Did the old man really think his nudity or any of his other actions were of his own choosing? Fuming, he followed the woman, until they entered into a small room.  
To call the room spartan would be an understatement. It had no furniture of any kind and the walls where unpainted. The only thing of note was a small hole on the wall that functioned as a window allowing some natural light into the room, if Varro got on his toes to peek out he would see one of the gardens on the exterior of the ludus. There was also a clay pipe leading down of the walls, it must have been broken as it ended only halfway done the wall, it was leaking a continuous stream of water. When Varro looked down, he saw that it wasn’t broken, it functioned like this by design. The water flowed into what was essentially a massive drain. The was a massive hole on the ground that stretched from one end of the room to the other, it was covered by grating. Sitting beside all this where some instruments, a hose, a faucet and a small jar that contained oil. Varro was confused by all of this, there nothing to bathe with, what kind of game was the slave girl playing on him? He turned round glaring at her before he heard a voice.

“I see you came early.” The voice belonged to a woman who entered the room. She was ancient, almost 80, with skin as black as ebony. The slave girl stammered an apology.

“Yes, apologies. Domina wants him to be ready as soon as possible.” The old woman just smiled.

“It is a good habit.” She assured the girl. She then turned her attention to Varro, and she quickly surveyed him.

“A very handsome boy. Are domina has very good taste,” she then looked at the slave girl, “Have you told him what is to be done?”

“No, I tried but he didn’t understand.” The slave girl replied.

“Understand what?” Varro asked. He was as nervous as he was irritated. None of this made sense. None of the instruments on the floor where useful for bathing and he still didn’t understand what it meant to clean him from the “inside”.  
The black woman irritably walked over to him.

“Stupid gladiator. We are to clean your insides,” she then rapped her wrinkled knuckles over Varro’s flat, hard stomach. Varro’s face wrinkled in confusion. The woman just gave an exasperated sigh.

“Stupid Gladiator. We are to clean your insides,” her hand deftly went round behind Varro to slap his ass repeatedly, in rapid succession, “through here.” Suddenly it became clear to Varro what she was talking about.

“No.” Varro said firmly. He tried to walk out of the room, but the frail old woman stepped in front of him.

“Stupid Gladiator. Where are you going? Do you think you could fight your way through the guards? You’re naked.” She said triumphantly, indicating at his bare flesh. She grabbed hold of his large, beefy bicep and squeezed. “You are strong, I see. But the guards have swords. What will you fight them with? You’re own?” With sadistic relish she grabbed hold of Varro’s penis and shook it.

Varro looked like he was ready to press the issue but saw the old black woman was right. Sighing, he stared at his feet. Waiting for his latest humiliating ordeal to begin. The woman seeing that the young, strapping blonde man was now ready to behave and do what he was told walked went over to her tools ready to begin.

Firstly, she secured the faucet to the clay pipe pumping water out. Secondly, she started preparing her other instrument, it was the tubing. Varro looked at dread any hope that he had been mistaken about what the tubing was going to be used for or where the tube would ultimately be going was quenched when she saw her apply a generous amount of oil to the end of it. When that was done the old woman indicated to Varro to walk over to her.

With a groan, he obeyed her and walked over to her. From there she told him that he was to assume a position beside the clay pipe above the grating. He walked over to the position. He winced at the sudden pain in his feet, the rusty metal was already biting into the bare soles. The woman then instructed him to assume a squatting position facing the wall. He did so reluctantly, slowly lowering himself until he was in position. He placed his hands on the wall to steady himself. The woman looked at him satisfied at his efforts. She was ready to begin working on him.

She bent over to Varro, gripping the tubing she was going to use to clean him internally. She realised that had she was going to have a challenge own her hands. Varro being young, healthy and athletic had an extraordinarily tight hole even in normal conditions and with his distress he was going to be tense making him even tighter. But she was up to the challenge. She had been part of the villas staff for years and her experience with handling younger, stronger slaves was unparalleled.  
She used the remaining contents of the oil and applied it to her fingers. She quickly placed on of her fingers between Varro’s clenched firm buttocks wiggling it until her fingertip was resting on his tight entrance. Varro let out a sob, utterly humiliated at being fingered by the old woman. The black woman ignored this, as she silently started to circle her finger expertly.

The effects on Varro where confusing him, they were pleasurable, but they weren’t. It was like the pleasure he felt when he had been forced to fornicate with that girl in front of the crowd at the night of the Vulcanalia or when Iliythia had forced the slave girl to suck his cock. His body felt “pleasure” from it but all he felt himself was disgust and degradation. Never the less despite how much he hated what was being done to him he felt his muscles down there begin to relax. The woman noticed that too, smiling in satisfaction at how easily she could break a man. She continued to swirl her finger for a few minutes longer than necessary enjoying the power she was enjoying and how good Varro felt. To think a girl as spoilt and stupid as her domina had such a handsome stud all to herself, she thought jealously,as she continued to swirl her finger to Varros extreme distress. She was enjoying how tight Varro was around her finger and how perfect his buttocks where both to the eye and the touch, as firm and smooth as marble. She then took her opportunity and not very gently shoved the tubing she was holding inside of him.

Varro gasped from the invasion of his body, but the woman only smiled. She then attached the other end of the tube to the faucet. Varro tried to ready himself but even then, he jolted at the feeling of the cold water as it began to fill him. At first, all he felt was a mild discomfort. It felt bad but was nothing compared to how humiliated he felt. Then the water continued to flow into his body and the discomfort kept increasing. Varro squirmed and balled his hands into fists. Soon the discomfort turned into pain and when the first of the cramps started Varro bit his lips to avoid shouting in pain. Satisfied that Varro was full the woman pulled the tube out from the faucet allowing the water to flow normally. The woman pointed at Varro.

“You will hold that in for 10 minutes.” She told him. Varro tanned face paled at that. He wasn’t going to be able to hold that in for that long, but he was terrified about what punishment awaited him should he fail.

Varro closed his eyes, counting down the horrible minutes. Iliythias body slave was upset at seeing such a man as Varro, a god of the arena, be humiliated and tormented so horrifically. She turned to the black woman and asked.

“Excuse me but why is this necessary? The insides of your body don’t need to be cleaned.”

“Clever girl. You’re right, this is stupid. It’s based on some absurd belief that it cleans the darkest thoughts from a man, but it is nonsense.”

“Then why do it at all?”

“Because I am paid to do it,” the old woman laughed, “But it is very good for discipline. A slave does not soon forget this. Even slaves as proud as a gladiator. It also lets the slave know that everything he has, even the functions of his body belong to and are controlled by his masters.” Varro was too busy concentrating to listen to any of this, he was trying so hard to keep the invading water in his body. Eventually, the 10 minutes finished. The woman didn’t bother to tell Varro she just simply pulled the tubing out from him. With a groan of relief Varro was allowed to release the now filthy water out. It flowed through the grating below.

“Am I... am I finished?” Varro’s voice was so high and broken it could have belonged to a boy.

“Not quite,” the old woman informed him, “traditionally we must clean you until nothing but clear water flows.” Varro felt tears well; he leaned his head against the wall in front of him. He had promised to be beaten, whipped or die by the sword but this was a much worse form of pain. He wanted to protest or try to run but he knew it was futile. The only dignity a slave often had was their ability to endure pain in silence so Varro closed his eyes and maintained his squating position. Prepared to endure another round of torturous ice-cold enemas administered by the cruel old woman. She took up her tubing, took a few second to admire Varros bare form and then gleefully resumed her task.

It took another two rounds before the woman was satisfied that Varro was thoroughly cleansed. Varro legs where shaky when he was allowed to stand up again. His strong legs nearly buckled as he stood up. The body slave put her arm around him to help steady him. He roughly shook her off.

“Don’t touch me!” he growled. The woman had been the one to led Varro to this room and he wouldn’t forgive her for it. His petulant anger was interrupted by the black woman giving him an extremely hard slap across his head.

“Don’t be stupid, Gladiator. She only did as commanded.” Varro blinked the black woman was right. He turned towards the body slave, his big blue eyes apologetic.

“Apologies. “he muttered. The slave girl smiled at him gently and told him he could now leave the room.

Varro not needing to be told twice. He Walked as fast as his athletic legs could carry him. The body slave was struggling to catch up when Varro saw the large bath again, he remembered the filthy conditions of the outside of his body. Realising he needed to get the filth and grime from his body he lowered himself into the bath. The body slave seeing that Varro had already got into the water, fetched him some soap and a sponge for him to clean himself. She handed it to him, who accepted it with a slight smile.  
Varro actually enjoyed the bath; it was relatively normal. There were no hidden twists to humiliate him and by this point Varro was willing to see that as a gift. He took his time to clean himself making sure he was thorough. When he finished the slave girl gave him a towel to dry off. When he did so, the slave escorted him back through the villa until they were out in the exterior of the building.


	5. Training Begins

Varro was curious what was expected off him now. As far as knew Iliythia still wasn’t awake yet. He continued to walk behind the slave girl. She led him into the courtyard of the villa. He saw there was a chariot, but no horse was attached to it. Besides the chariot, there was a lean tall man. When the man saw him, he smiled.

“You must be Varro?” the man said, when Varro nodded, he smiled. The tall man looked at the gladiator, when he was told that the man was ordered to go everywhere naked, he thought it was a joke, but he saw that he been informed correctly. Not that he could blame Iliythia, as he looked upon the muscular, well-endowed men he doubted he would allow him to wear clothes as well.

“Excellent! I am too be your trainer. You may call be Vorenus.”

“Trainer?” Varro repeated. He found the idea absurd what could that man teach him? Varro was already in much greater shape than the tall man was.

“Yes, your trainer. Did you imagine that your time hear would be nothing but rest and pleasure? Iliythia wants to keep you in top shape.”

“What could you teach me? You’re not a doctore.” The tall man, Vorenus, smiled at that.

“You’re mistaken you’re not to be trained in your brutish arts. The training is to ensure you’re kept as firm and tight as you were when you entered this villa. Now, shall we begin?”

Varro smiled at the man, after the excruciating training he had been put through at the ludus he doubted there would be anything the man could put him through that would so much as challenge him. The man bid Varro to follow him as led the gladiator to the garden that would function as his training yard for his morning warmups.

It was the garden that Iliythia room directly overlooked. The garden was circular in shape with a fountain in the centre of it. The noblewoman must be intending to enjoy herself to quite a show, when she woke up. The first part of Varro’s workout Vorenus explained was simple. He was to run around the garden under a designated time. Varro could see the man was wielding a cane which worried him, but his fear dissipated when he was told how much time he had. It was going to be trivially easy to complete.  
Varro’s was right, he easily completed the lap with plenty of time to spare. Vorenus complemented Varro for his efforts and then instructed him to repeat the lap, only this time he would have less time to complete it. Again, Varro easily finished on time. And again, Vorenus smiled and made Varro run again with slightly less time. This cycle continued a few more times. Varro for his part was enjoying himself. After all the agonizing labour he had been put through the last year this was absurdly easy. He had not enjoyed himself this much in physical exercise since the last time he playfully wrestled with his young son.

Eventually, Vorenus gave him a much, shorter length of time to complete the lap. Varro ran as quickly as he could, but it was impossible to complete on time. When he passed his trainer the man lashed his cane across Varro’s firm ass. The pain shot through him like a dagger. Varro looked at the man irritated that he been tricked into thinking he was going to be doing something easy.

“Good, Varro. That was very good. You’re as fit as you are strong but now the real challenge begins.” With that a slave arrived carrying a barrel filled with sand that was then promptly filled with water. Varro was instructed to pick it up and hold it over his head. The barrels would have been very difficult for a normal man to lift but Varro picked it up as if it weighed nothing.

“And, now Varro let us see how you fare with a proper challenge.”

This time Varro failed multiple times to complete the laps in the allotted time he was given. The barrel was relatively simple for Varro to carry, the only hint of its weight was how the gladiator’s arms would slightly tremble on occasion. But carrying the barrel while running and using his co-ordination skills to prevent it from dropping was another matter entirely. Each time Varro failed, Vorenus gave him a taste of the cane. Blows where delivered to Varro’s buttocks, back and thighs. The garden previously a sanctuary of tranquility was now awakened by the chorus of the cane swishing through the air, accompanied by the cracking and thwacking of muscled flesh as it connected with the slave, combined with the sounds of Varro panting in tiredness, groaning in pain and the sound of gentle thudding as his bare feet pounded the ground. By the time Vorenus allowed him to stop there was a collection of bruises forming at the back of his body.

“You see, Varro. I can provide you with quite a challenge myself. Do you think I some of your doctore in me?” He smiled at Varro. “But let us put such thought away for now. You’re Domina rises. Do you see?” He pointed at the balcony, Iliythia was reclining on a seat watching Varro be put through his paces.

“For now, Varro. Let us provide her with a show.”

This show was a set of calisthenic exercises. They were as rigorous and intense as the ones that Doctore had assigned ever since the night of the Vulcanalia. The only difference is the grass beneath his feet was much softer than the hot sand at the ludus. That and his nudity, which Varro was growing used to more and more. Varro was made to do sit ups, push-ups and other exercises. Soon a sheet of sweat developed on Varro’s body, making the golden, smooth and hairless adonis glisten in the morning sun. Iliythia was treated to the chorus of manly grunts and groans and the viewing pleasure of watching large, well developed muscles flex and strain. 

It was as much a spectacle for his mistress as it was an exercise for his charge, Vorenus knew. So at times he halted whatever Varros exercise was currently performing when he sensed the spoilt woman was getting bored, then he would make Varro do a particularly intense series of sit ups or push ups directly beneath her balcony for her to admire his ass and hard stomach and chest. She would watch the poor man toil in the hot sun as she greedily sipped wine as her slave fanned her.   
Vorenus decided to stop Varro’s exercises. Iliythia had seen enough to leave her satisfied for now and Varro had other training to complete and he didn’t want the man too tired.

“Come Varro. There’s more for you to learn.” Varro stopped the set of sprints he was working through to Iliythias disappointment.

As they left the garden, the trainer again tried to make small talk with the man.

“You’re as athletic as you are beautiful, Varro, I’m surprised your ludus was willing to part with you for so much as a single day. But it’s a good thing. A man as exquisite as you should be shared not greedily hoarded.” They were walking back to the courtyard, the man still talked.

“You see Iliythia has an important role for you today. Beyond satisfying her desires. You see, she wished to take a tour of her father’s estates. Not just the delightful Villa you’re now a guest off but all the farmland surrounding it. Surveying the lands rather than delegating the process to a servant, such a dutiful daughter. “They had now re-entered the courtyard. Varro now realised why the chariot had yet to be attached to a horse.

“And I am to be what pulls her chariot?” Varro scoffed. He should be dreading the pain and humiliation in store for him, but he was used to such abuse. If anything, he now appreciated the inventive sadism and cruel irony of what Iliythia had planned for him. He entered into her father’s estate being pulled by a horse and now that he was to travel through it, he was to serve the function of one.

“Yes! Very clever! Do not worry about Iliythias role as your driver, she is quite accustomed to handling human livestock. Rather, you should be focused on your function as the chariots horse.”

Vorenus then told Varro what was to be expected off him. He was not to think, not to question he should simply obey and run until commanded to stop. Vorneus then told him how he should understand and obey the non-verbal commands. He told him which pull, snap or tug of the reigns signalled whether he was to slow down, to accelerate or to stop. He also sadly told Varro that the only way to convey what direction he was to take was through the use of a whip.

After his lesson Varro looked at the chariot he was to pull. Since he last left the courtyard there had been adjustments made to the contraption. The chariot had handrails added to it, two wooden poles placed on the sides of the chariot. Varro could also see that the poles had soft leather strips wrapped around them. It looked rather big and heavy, not particularly suitable when the animal pulling it was much less strong than a horse or pony. Vorenus seemed to read his mind.

“There are lighter chariots but Ilithyia did not want to insult your strength by letting you pull them. She chose the heaviest chariot in the ludus to give your beautiful body a rigorous workout”

“How very thoughtful of her.” Varro replied bitterly. Vorenus chuckled at that but then his expression grew serious.

“Come it’s time to fit you onto the chariot.” A harness was quickly fitted onto Varro who was then chained to the chariot. Varro’s also felt the soft leather strips of the handrails being wrapped around his wrists. Varro’s new trainer got on the chariot ready to begin the practise run before he stepped off.

“Apologies, Varro! I forgot something.” He then procured something lying at the back of the chariot. He then walked over in front of Varro.

“Iliythia has given you a moniker of the bull. I thought perhaps she was referring to your strength or will, my good friend. But now that I’ve seen you it may have been in reference to a much more intimate attribute,” he smirked, as he rudely gazed at Varro’s large penis, “Either way she wants you to be adorned like one” With that he produced a set of bull horns to be placed on Varro’s head.  
Varro simply raised his head and kept it very still as the bull horns were placed on him. They were held by a leather strap that was bound tightly around Varro’s skull.

“And now my friend it is time we begin.” Vorenus climbed the chariot and snapped the reigns signalling that Varro was to start pulling. Varro’s strong hands gripped the wooden poles on either side of him. As he pulled, he was surprised by how much effort it took, the chariot was even heavier than it looked. This wasn’t going to be easy.

Vorenus began Varro’s ordeal by making him take him through the network of gardens surrounding the villa. Varro for the time being was moving in little more than a mild trot, the first part of the journey was not meant to take a toll on Varro physically. Little of the man’s considerable strength and stamina where required for the moment. Rather it was simply a manner of getting the Roman accustomed to obeying and understanding how to control the chariot and follow his trainer orders.  
The nature of the connected web of gardens meant that Vorenus often had to turn or change speed constantly. Vorenus, for his part, was rather gentle with Varro. He used the reigns as softly as he could, he even applied the whip to Varro’s shoulder rather gently. Varro only felt a mild sting when Vorenus needed to instruct him to turn right or left.

To his trainer irritation the man kept making the mistake of thinking like a man rather than a pony. He would on occasion move or change direction based on what he thought his rider wanted rather than what he had been told to by the rein or the whip. For the most part he was right he was moving at a slow pace and the garden made it obvious where Varro was meant to be going. Little did he know this was the easy part of the journey and when he was running at full speed, he wouldn’t have time to think and he would need to trust his partners instructions completely. So, when they completed touring the gardens of the Villa rather than continue the journey into the surround farmland Vorenus decided to turn Varro around and began another series of laps around the villa’s gardens.

The gardens where now being to fill with workers. Some were slaves but some were free tradesmen. Unlike, the slaves who had been instructed to ignore the gladiator and his nudity the freemen hadn’t. Varro made an attractive figure.Even in the bizarre and degrading job he was tasked with, his beautiful muscled, smooth and hairless body caused feeling of lust and envy in the men surrounding him. The sweat he had accumulated made him look like he had been oiled. A few of the freemen couldn’t help themselves and touched the strange, alluring new arrival at Senators Albinus Villa.

Vorenus allowed this initially. For the most part the touches Varro endured where short fleeting things to the mans shoulders or arms. It was also useful for Vorenus to see how Varro reacted to distraction on his path as he pulled the chariot. A few of the freeman touches where not quite so chaste, however. Some men took the chance to grab and touch Varro’s abdomen and buttocks. Annoyed at this Vorenus brought his whip down on the peasants tending his employer’s gardens.

Varro had to complete several more trots around the Villas gardens before Vorenus was confident the slave was getting the hang of pulling the heavy chariot and was adopting the right mindset. He took Varro to the entrance from the farmland into the villa’s grounds. Vorenus wanted to tell Varro that the real part of their trial had now begun but he knew as long as Varro was attached to the chariot he was to be treated as an animal not as a man. Vorenus then flicked the reigns harshly. Varro immediately dug his feet into the earth beneath him, started to quicken up his pace, picking up speed with each step.

As Varro build up momentum, he soon ran at the speed expected off him. Vorenus smiled, he was fortunate to have such a strong man to train. Most men would have tripped or stumbled or collapsed on their first time, but the plucky, well-built man was powering through his race. Vorenus enjoyed the feeling of the air ,normally stifling in the harsh sun but was currently whipping through him as Varro continued to pull the chariot ahead.  
The trainer now settled into his role and confident Varro would not trip or derail the chariot began to relax and enjoyed the view in front of him. It wasn’t as much fun as watching the front of Varro’s naked body struggle and run as Iliyhtia had enjoyed but it was still a feast for the eyes. Especially now that Varro’s arms and shoulder where undertaking the majority of the work of pulling the chariot, the muscles where now straining so hard Varro looked like a statue made of flesh and blood but the part of Varro’s body that Vorenus could not take his eyes off was the man’s ass.

Vorenus felt the confines of his subligaria tighten as he continued to stare at Varro. Perhaps, he should take the man far from prying eyes and fuck him? But how to convince Varro to let him? There was no possibility of overpowering the muscular gladiator. Perhaps if he informed Varro that he had been given permission by his domina? He considered this lost in thought when he saw that Varro was leading him straight into a vineyard. Vorenus had to react quickly, he pulled at Varro’s reigns with all his might. Varro instantly slowed down, grinding to a halt before he could ruin some of the wealthy nobleman’s farmland. Vorenus was rather embarrassed at this, it should have been the slave who nearly ruined the chariot run not the experienced trainer. Vorenus forced a laugh to cover up how ashamed he was. He then addressed Varro for the first time since he had taken hold of the reins of the chariot.

“Apologies, Varro. That was my fault, but we shall resume the run, shall we? You’re doing very well. Where more than halfway through.” Varro groaned at that, upset to be informed that he still had so much land to cover and that he would have to restart pulling the chariot, the hardest part of pulling the damn thing in Varro’s opinion.

Varro was miserable, he had forgotten the philosophical acceptance of the latest humiliating trial he had when he was first introduced to the chariot. Now he just wanted the pain to end. He felt the chariot race was even more exhausting than his run through Capua, if that was possible. There at least he mainly only had to use his legs but here every aspect of his body was being pushed to their limit. The sun had already begun to set when Iliythia had so cruelly commanded her driver to spurn the horses but now the sun was at its peak at mid-day. Varro was sweating so much his golden curls had turned into a mop of damp brown hair. His hands bound to the wooden polls to his sides could not be raised to wipe the sweat off his face. He felt the salty fluid produced by his body fall into his eyes blurring his vision.

At the same Varro was also rather proud of how strong he was. The blonde wondered how his fellow gladiators would cope with the trials he had endured. The only man he was confident who could have rivalled his performance was Crixus and while the man surpassed Varro in his strength and stamina he also had quite a prideful vanity to him. He did not imagine the Gaul would not take so kindly to being stripped and degraded as Varro had been. Would Spartacus have coped as well? Spartacus had a different build to Varro, lean and sinewy, with none of the bulk that Varro had that occasionally slowed him done. But the race Varro was undertaking was a test of both strength, speed and agility. Varro was certain he would win. Varro frowned as he thought about the Thracian who had fast became his best friend. Was he even still alive? The last Varro saw of him he was being taken by Batatius to fight in the pits.

Vorenus sensing that his charge was getting distracted he harshly snapped at Varro’s reigns making him run even faster than he had previously. Varro increased his speed and quickly forgot any thoughts about the world outside the path in front of him. Soon the only thoughts in Varro’s mind where to run and obey. While Varro pulled the chariot Vorenus started to become more and more demanding of Varro. Especially, with the use of the whip. While Varro had only needed light taps to instruct him to turn left or right now that Varro’s concentration on his task was so absolute, he needed much harsher blows for the message to get through to his mind quickly. A few times Vorenus struck him so hard that he drew blood.

As cruel as it may have been the harsh discipline was effective. As tired as Varro was, he ran and weaved his way from the second half of the farmyards in less time than when he had started fresh. Varro couldn’t believe how happy he was when he was led back to the villa and returned to Iliythias care. Vorenus directed him to the front of the villa where Iliythia and her body slave where reclining in couches that had been brought outside the steps of the villa. She was eating some fresh fruit that had been left in place for her. When she saw Varro return to her in his present state, she felt her pulse quicken.

While yesterday in Lucretias villa had been made to appear as a god of the arena now he appeared a true beast of the sands. Varro’s body was even dirtier than it had been when he had first entered her villa, to the woman’s approval and surprise, she wondered how that happened. Considering on Varro’s run he had the hoofs of the horses and the wheels of her carriage churning up the earth in front of him, while in front of the chariot the only thing whipping up the dust and the sand where Varro’s gorgeous feet and legs pounding the ground. A testament to her gladiators’ sheer strength and determination. The horns on his head looked somewhat comical but also deeply erotic, Varro looked like a minotaur forged by the gods. The bull horns looked rather suitable considering the enormous cock and balls swinging back and forward between the man’s firm thighs.

When Vorenus stopped the chariot Varro immediately collapse. If not for the harness and pole he was attached to, he would have fallen hard face first into the earth. The chains and leather snapped as hard and as tight as they could as they took the strain of Varro’s heavy body. Vorenus got off the chariot and began to unstrap Varro.

“You did very well, my friend,” he then grinned at Varro and patted him on the head like an animal, which until he was fully released from the chariot he was to be treated as one, “ What did you think? Was it hard? Am i as harsh a task master as your doctore?” Varro knew he was being teased but at the moment he was simply too tired to care.

As the trainer undid the straps and bounds connecting Varro to the chariot, he fell face first into the ground. Vorenus gently picked Varro up, holding him until he put his hands on the ground to support himself. He began the strap holding the horns on Varro’s head until he was stopped by Iliythia.

“No! Keep those on, I like him that way.” Vorenus looked at Iliythia, shrugged and left Varro on his hands and knees in the dirt with the horns still strapped around his head

“Will that be all, Domina?” the man inquired hoping he would have more chances to train Varro this day, but he was disappointed when she informed him.

“Yes. You’ve done fine work with the man.” Vorenus walked away, allowing Iliythia to have some alone time with her slave. As she walked over to him and examined him, she saw that she may have gone too far. She had commanded Vorenus to be hard on the man but when she looked at his face and saw how spent and tired he was, she felt slightly guilty. While Varro had been exhausted when he ran behind her carriage Iliythia had seen some determination and energy in the man along with his pained exhaustion. Now all she saw was weariness in Varro’s blue eyes.

Varro saw the glass of water being offered to him by the woman who now temporarily owned him. He swallowed the contents gratefully in a single gulp. He thought the woman would be merciful and leave him alone even if only for an hour, but he should have known better. He felt the collar being reattached around his neck and a gentle tug of the chain to get him to his feet.

“Domina, I cannot walk.” Varro said weakly.

“Then crawl.” Iliythia said

“Please, Domina. I’m tired. I need rest.” Varro pleaded.

“Crawl slowly, then.” Iliythia then tugged more insistently this time. Varro followed in a weak crawl.

Varro hands and knees where burning as he crawled over the hot ground. He saw that Iliythia was handing the leash over to her body slave.

“Gladiator, you are to be taken by my body slave. You’ll behave for her, I trust? You’ll by allowed to eat and rest for the next hour. I want you to back to full energy when my friend arrives.” Varro looked at her worried. The fact that Iliythia said “friend” instead of guest, suggest it was another young woman belonging to Rome’s elite coming. Varro was terrified at the prospect of another sadistic young woman “Playing” with him like Iliythia did. Iliythia not noticing or caring about Varro’s apprehension turned towards her body slave.

“Have him messaged and fed. Let him have wine or opium if it’s what necessary to relax him.”

“Shall I see him to the baths?”

“By no means.” Iliythia was confused by this question. Her slave knew her well and how much she enjoyed seeing the rougher things in life.

“But what of your guest? Wont she disapprove of seeing your slave like this?” Iliythia blinked, surprised at her slave’s cleverness. She was right. Servilia the friend Iliythia was expecting was of a much more conservative nature than Iliythia, seeing the strapping slave so wild and dirty looking as he walked naked through the villa might appall or offend her.

“Very well, clean the worst of the dirt off him but make sure he remains picturesque.” With that the body slave started to walk into the villa, Varro crawling behind her at the end of the chain. He immediately felt better as he entered the villa. The shadows of the villa immediately cooled him, and the smooth marble felt better against his bare flesh than the roasting, rough earth in the estate’s grounds.

As Varro crawled behind the woman, Iliythia again reclined on her couch, enjoying the sun as a slave fanned her. Servilia was due in another two hours and she could not wait to show Varro off.


	6. Waiting for an arrival

Iliythias body slave had shown Varro much more consideration than he had experienced ever since he had sold himself into slavery. As Varro had been led away by her, attached to the leash Iliythia had given her, the slave had quickly slowed her pace for Varro as soon as she felt her Domina wasn’t looking. Iliythia was reclining in her couch enjoying the mid-day sun as she relaxed attended by her slaves, paying no heed to the gladiator she was in charge of as he crawled into the villa.

As she led the man through the villa slowly, she looked down and saw how badly Varro had been put exhausted that morning at the hands of the tall man, Vorenus. Not only was his body covered in sweat and the soil and grime he had generated pulling the chariot like a champion horse through the countryside, there was also blood sticking to him. From when Vorenus had generously applied the cane and the whip to Varro. There was patchwork of bruises and cuts forming all along the back of Varro’s body. His shoulders had been especially hurt, where Vorenus had used his whip to signal Varro when to turn left or right.

Varro for his part was still weary around the slave girl. She had been the one who had brought him to the ebony skinned woman who had “cleansed” him and while he knew she had no choice but to escort him to the baths, he still could noy fully forgive the role she had played in his torture.

When the woman and Varro entered a small corridor with no one about, she stopped. She paused for a few minutes allowing the blonde man to rest, after a few minutes she realised they needed to resume their journey through the villa back to the baths. Rather than pull Varro by his collar like a dog the slave woman decided he deserved the dignity of walking on his own two feet. She offered the gladiator her hand, he looked suspicious but decided to take. She then tried to haul the man up. Varro for his part did what he could to help her he leaned on a wall while she pulled him up to his feet. He was too exhausted and sore to hold himself up unaided. So, she allowed him to place his arm around her, the large, tanned limb looked odd contrasted with the petit pale woman. Once she was sure that he wouldn’t drop they resumed their walk.

The slave girl had never expected to be so close to the roman man. She assumed that pleasure would only be enjoyed by her domina. She remembered how jealous she had been of her mistress the night before. Watching with envy had Iliythia took Varro as many times as she pleased and how she had slept in his arms. Now she was just as intimately close to the man as her mistress had been. His large arm wrapped over her as he leaned on her for support. Even though Varro had not been permitted any clothing in the villa and she had grown accustomed to his seeing his nakedness, it felt so much different with him so close to her. She could feel his powerful muscles on her, and she felt his sweat on her. She felt her thumb gliding over the B letter that had been branded into his arm.

When they approached the stairs that descending into the bowels of the villa containing the baths. She saw Varro’s eyes widen in panic, remembering what he’d been done to last time he was in the bathing area. She looked directly into his eyes and soothed him

“You are not to be cleansed again. Domina wants you to remain dishevelled, for the most part. You have been taken here so you may be massaged and refreshed.” Varro was suspicious of anything Iliythia had planned for him but the thought of the opportunity to relax even for an hour was so tempting he descended the stairs with body slave willingly.

The old black woman who had cruelly tormented Varro earlier that morning was still walking around the bathing area of the villa. This morning had provided her with the most fun she had in years, she was in charge of indoctrinating new slaves into the villa and her experience with controlling and breaking them was extensive. She was often given handsome, strong young boys to train but few in all the decades she had served at Albinus villa few had been as handsome or as fun to play with as Iliythias gladiator had been. She had been part of the entourage that had greeted Iliythia when she had returned at the villa, she had remembered what a spectacular sight he had made running in the nude behind her carriage. The old Greek man, Posca, had been outraged by Ilithyias decision to have the man permanently naked, while she had applauded the idea.

She licked her lips at the thought of Varro’s nude form. She wondered whether he was to be a permanent addition to the villa. She recalled Iliythia describing him as a loan but with the way she proudly paraded him around by that leash she assumed Iliythia would try and purchase the man from whatever ludus he had originally belonged to. Her eyes brightened at the thought. She would convince Posca to let her cleanse the blonde young man every week, she could play with Varro to her hearts content. As she lost herself on that thought she heard footsteps approach, they belonged to Varro and Iliythias body slave.

“Back so soon?” The woman asked and then she saw the state of Varro. He was even more exhausted looking and more plastered with filth than when he had first entered the ludus. He was so spent he had to lean on the girl slave for support as he walked. She also saw the blood on the man. She was surprised at that, she assumed Iliythia would want to Keep her slave in prime condition to enjoy him more but evidently the stupid woman had trouble thinking ahead. She also saw the bull horns fastened to his head, they looked both dramatic and comical to her. She then looked at the body slave.

“Oh, Cassia,” she tutted, addressing the female slave by the name the romans had given her,” look at your dress.” Cassia was confused at first not knowing what she was talking about, then she looked at her dress and cried out.

The clothing she had been given was the finest a slave could be expected to wear it was made of silk and presently it was covered in sweat and grime and blood. She should have known that was the result of letting the filthy gladiator lean on her, how could she be so stupid? The black woman roughly pulled her away from Varro who at this point had recovered enough energy to just about stand on his two feet on his own.

“Stupid girl,” she addressed her like a child, “Why do you hold him so close to you?” She grabbed hold of the chain connected to Varro’s collar. “You were given this leash for a reason.” Varro was angry at the way Cassia was being talked to as she was the only woman who had shown him kindness in quite some time, and he didn’t like the humiliating tone the old woman was addressing her with.

“My apologies.” She stammered.

“You’re a spoilt child, for wasting such fine clothes. Oh, well. At least you’re in the right place for me to change them.” With that she grabbed Cassias dress and ripped it off her leaving her naked, for the most part. Cassia gasped and covered her nipples, blushing in embarrassment. The old woman smiled at her and approached her.

Varro had enough, he ignored how tired he was and stood up as tall as he could in front of the black woman. The old woman didn’t expect to be intimidated by him, if he couldn’t frighten her when he came full of health and energy at the morning she didn’t think he could frighten her in his current condition, with the ridiculous head dress around his head, but she was wrong. Varro’s eyes normally as soft and open as a boy had hardened and they were full of fury. His naked body while visibly exhausted was still at the pinnacle of human attainment, the large muscles seemed to radiate power and strength off of them. Even his dirty condition and the bull horns on his head rather than degrade him made him seem dangerous and wild. The old ebony woman backed away from cassia, she was much more polite when she addressed her next.

“and why do come here? Not that I’m not grateful for the company but I had assumed are beloved domina would want to spend as much time with her gladiator as she could.”

“The gladiator has been exerting himself all morning. Iliythia wishes for him to be well rested for her guest this afternoon.” She explained.

With that Cassia walked past her, she wanted to retrieve her dress from the old woman, but they were too ripped for her to wear anymore. She then led Varro into a small room with a solid table on it. There where shelves in the room at the side as well. Varro entered the room and felt the leather straps around his head being loosened before he felt the bull horns being lifted, Varro was grateful he had finally been allowed to take them off. They were rather heavy, and they had added to his hardship as he pulled the chariot.

“Gratitude “he sent to the body slave, Cassia.

“None required.” She smiled at him. She then told him that she would leave for a few minutes to fetch another dress. As Varro was left in the room, he sat on the solid table.

Cassia returned wearing a much plainer dress. She was grateful for that; she had felt horribly embarrassed and vulnerable wearing nothing. She looked at the blonde gladiator who she had yet to see wear so much as a scrap of cloth and wondered how he endured it. He must be used to being almost naked all the time she realised, almost the entirety of his body had been bronzed by the sun, the only fair part of his skin was his ass and groin region and even they were beginning to tan.

As Cassia re-entered the room Varro started to climb on top of the table remembering the promise of a massage. Cassia stopped and told him firstly the dirt was to be removed from him, disappointed at having to wait Varro just got up with a resigned smile and stood at attention, holding his arms so the kind slave girl could go about her world more easily. Cassia picked a Strigil from the shelve and went about her work removing the worst of the dirt from his body.

When she was finished Varro had thought she had done a poor job, looking at the man she sensed his bemusement and confusion.

“Domina, commands all the most excess of filth be removed from you. She still wants you to appear wild and untamed.” Varro just scoffed at that but at least now he could now enjoy his massage. In the ludus only the most experiences, most renowned gladiators such as Crixus and Barca where permitted such indulgences and seeing how relaxed it made them Varro was eager to enjoy the experience for himself. He climbed on top of the table.

Cassia selected some jays containing oil, she chose the scented ones. While Iliythia enjoyed the sight of her pet gladiator filthy she doubted she wanted to smell him. She poured the oil on him and began her work.

Varro had wondered when someone had last done something to him solely with his pleasure and comfort in mind. It was with his wife Aurelia, when she had made love to him one last time the night before he was to be sold into slavery knowing it would it be the last time ever of them could enjoy each other for years possibly. Even when he had been selected to take part in Lucretia’s sex show it was entirely for the viewing pleasure of the roman elite and nothing about his wants or desires. But now the slave girl was rubbing and kneading him purely to relax him. She had started at his feet and worked along his body. It felt better than even he participated he felt his body relax and loosen in ways he hadn’t imagined until he could have been unless he was freed of both his gambling debts and his bondage. She had gently rubbed soothing potions into the many cuts he had accumulated that morning, as well. She had even massaged his buttocks this had relaxed Varro but also caused him to feel aroused, he had felt embarrassed not wanting the slave girl to see his erection but she had either failed to notice or was very discreetly pretending not to see it.

As she massaged his thick arms Varro started to feel himself begin to fall asleep, as she started to rub the palms of his hand, she heard the soft snoring come out from the gladiator’s mouth. She smiled at that, admiring how man who killed for a living could appear so innocent in his sleep. She leaned over and planted a kiss on his forehead and left him to his sleep.

Ilithyia was in a foul mood, she had been sent work that servilia had been delayed in her journey and she was not to be expected for several hours. She was bored and she wished that she had not sent Varro to the baths to rest. She knew he was exhausted and needed to rest, so he would have the energy necessary to impress and make her friend jealous but it still pained her to be free from the man she temporarily was the master of. Iliythia didn’t want to part with the man, she had only owned him for a day, but she found him to be a remarkably charming addition to her household.

She saw Cassia approach her and informed her that Varro was asleep resting.

“Very good, wake him in an hour or so.”

“Only an hour….” She flinched as Iliythia turned to her, “Forgive me Domina. But isn’t your guest not expected for another four? Should Varro not be allowed to regain his strent…” Cassia felt Iliythia slap her around the face so hard it broke her lip.

“I will not be question by slaves.” She hissed. “Varro be given as much rest as I deem it and I will use him for whatever desires I want. Do you understand? “Cassia nodded quickly, suddenly terrified of her mistress. Ilithyia smiled at the fear she got from her slave.

For the next hour and a half Cassia was forced to fan her mistress as she drank rich wine. Iliythia then bid her body slave to fetch Varro, she had some entertainment planned for herself before Servilia arrived.

When Cassia arrived back into the massage room, Varro was deep in slumber in contrast to the weak half sleep last night when he lay next to Iliythia. He was snoring contently, and Cassia almost didn’t wake him up but then she remembered the punishment what Iliythia would inflict on her if he came back with nothing. She didn’t place her hand on his head and gently shook him awake. Varro awake quickly ready for comber his gladiator honed reflexes kicking in. He stopped when he saw it was the kind slave girl, his expression instantly softening.

He got up wearily preparing himself for whatever new painful twist Iliythia had planned for him. He had felt more refreshed than he had been in weeks, Cassias skilled hands had released much tension and stress from him. As he got up, he saw the bull horns by the table. Varro groaned he hated those things; they were just as humiliating as the leash and the added pain of adding extra weight to his neck as he walked about. He then saw something else; it was a bell. Varro knew it was meant to go around his neck.

“Apologies,” Cassia muttered. Varro for his part simply nodded that it was alright, and she should continue to prepare him for Iliythia.

Cassia worked quickly to apply the collar and then the bell around Varro’s neck. It was surprisingly heavy. Then she wrapped the leather straps around the top of Varro’s skull and tightened it, securing the bull horns to Varro.  
As they walked, the bell around Varro’s neck constantly punctuated the large halls and rooms of the villa with a ringing noise with every stride of the blonde man. He was pulled along rather insistently by Cassia who instructed to keep at the full length of the chain from her. She was frightened that her sympathises and affections of the man would become too obvious, so she made a show of being harsh on him. When she passed two guards, she rapidly increased her walking speed, the bell on Varro’s neck swinging by the increased momentum causing both guards to laugh at the comical image this god of the arena had made of himself.

Iliythia heard the tingling of the bell, amused and pleased with herself for being so creative with Varro’s costume. She saw Cassia with the chain connected to Varro’s collar. When she saw Varro, she giggled to herself. Cassia had done well with the man; she had cleaned the worst of the filth off Varro’s body, but she had left some remains of the grime on him. Varro’s hair had not been washed, it was still a shaggy mess , dyed brown from how sweaty he had gotten on his chariot race in contrast to the beautiful, golden crown of hair Varro had when he woke up in this morning. It made Varro appear like a wild animal.

Speaking of which the horns still looked impressive on Varro in Iliythia opinion. She had wondered whether the bell around his neck was going too far but it made an impressive ornament nestled between the man’s large, hard pecs.  
Iliythia walked up to him and softly kissed him like a lover, he responded awkwardly wondering how someone could inflict so much humiliation and hardship on someone and still pretend to be affectionate towards them. Iliythia nestled her head on Varro’s sinewy broad left shoulder.

“Oh, Varro. My bull.” Her hands took hold of both Varro’s bell and his testicles holding both up, “Now everyone will look at you my love.” With that she let both her hands go, allowing both bell and balls to swing back down only stopping when they hit the hard muscles of Varro’s body.

With that she took hold of Varro’s leash and led him by the chain. They walked into a new garden; this one was adorned with exquisitely detailed statues of the Greek gods. Varro was discomforted by this reminder of how he was forced to adopt an awkward, deeply uncomfortable pose, painted by Lucretia in the guise of Apollo in the hot sun. There were several high-ranking members of the villa in attendance at the garden. There was Posca, Vorenus and the old black woman, as well some other well-dressed members Varro hadn’t been introduced to yet. A makeshift platform had been erected in the centre of the garden, a nude woman was on top of it, it was Ilithyias other body slave, the one who had served her wine as she entered the villa.

When Vorenus saw Varro, he went over to him and slapped on the back like he was an old friend.

“It is good to see you, my friend. You’ve recovered well from your time pulling the chariot. You deserve the moniker that Iliythia has bestowed on you,” he frowned and added, “However, there are those that are still unconvinced that you deserve it. Certainly, you have the endowment of a bull,” he gestured towards Varro’s large cock, “but can you use it like one?”

“He is as skittish as a little girl.” The black woman laughed. Some of the guests turned at her incredulously, Varro had spent the entirety of his stay in the villa walking around in the nude but instead of hiding or shrinking away from eyesight he had walked around with a quiet dignity. And why not? Vorenus thought to himself, if he had the endowment and physique of Varro, he might go around naked too. Vorneus then turned back facing Varro.

“Now my friend. You perhaps find this an embarrassing prospect yes? To engage in coitus for an audience is no easy thing. Think of it like your gladiator matches, here you too will use your skill with a sword to wow the crowd” He smiled his affable smirk at Varro before blending in with the rest of the guests.

If Iliythia thought she would see the pleasure of seeing Varro hesitate or be embarrassed by this latest demand on him she was mistaken. Varro had been used and humiliated in so many ways in such a short time that he was beginning to become accustomed to it. The prospect frightened him, he had sworn on the night of the Vulcanalia that he would not become as numb and defeated as the girl he had sex with but here he was in such a short of time later about to fuck a woman he barely knew without hesitation or complaint. He mechanically climbed on top of the table to begin his task.

Iliythia stopped him.

“Varro what are you doing? You are still not fully prepared.” She said with a smirk.

The preparation involved his collar being taken away. The old black woman had volunteered to be the one to take it off Varro’s neck. This left him with only his horns and his bell adorning his nude frame. Next, Iliythia announced, was to make the roman hard. She volunteered Cassia for this task, she was still irritated at how she had questioned her decision earlier and she decided she needed to be humbled.

Cassia was frightened at what she had been ordered to do, her position as Iliythia body slave had granted her protection, she had never done something sexual with a man before. She had been curious at times but was relieved she didn’t have to live the alive of exploitation another young female slaved had to endure. She had really liked Varro, if she where to know a man like that, the handsome, kind, muscular man would be her first choice, but she didn’t want to do it like this, with a crowd watching. She turned to look at her mistress to see any hint of mercy but when she saw none she sank to her knees and took Varro in her mouth.

Varro was upset and angry at seeing the kind slave girl being used like this. If anything, it made him slower to gain an erection. It would have simpler if he had fondled himself. Probably what she wanted. He thought, glaring at Iliythia. The crowd was gleefully watching the show. After a while Varro was made hard by the girls’ efforts. When Iliythia realised he was erect she signalled for Cassia to get up and to resume attending her. The girl did so in tears.

Iliythia ignored Varro’s obvious anger at what Cassia had been forced to do to him and whispered in his ear to further instructions. Iliythia told Varro that since he was dressed as a bull, he must perform like one. He was to pump into the beautiful woman with as much strength and passion as he could manage. Varro saw the slave woman was lying full on her stomach rather than on her hands and knees like the girl he had been partnered with on the night of the Vulcanalia.

It was to make her as unnoticeable as possible, Varro and his beautiful body where to be the main centre of attention and it’s what everyone in the room were most interested watching. It was going to make Varro’s performance more difficult as he would have to adopt some particularly hard positions to give the audience a good look at him as he thrust into the slave. However, Varro was stronger and fitter than when he had entertained Lucretia guests only a few weeks ago. Varro even felt somewhat philosophical about his upcoming performance, he was a gladiator, an object of both violence and lust. If he could grow used to the fighting and killing of men in the arena, then he could grow used to the giving of pleasure for an audience’s entertainment. Varro then preceded to mount the platform, entered the beautiful slave woman and began the audiences show.

Iliythias entourage quickly dispersed themselves into two positions one in the back of the platform, to watch Varro’s ass and at the front of the platform where they could admire his chest and abs. Varro had put in a stunning performance, despite how low he had to position himself to enter the woman he lifted his upper body and arched his back all so the audience could get a better look at his toned and defined torso. It would be a very difficult pose to maintain even if he was simply remaining there completely still, but Varro was ramming into the woman with as much energy as a dog in heat. Iliythais guests where wowed by this demonstration of Varro’s strength and athleticism. Especially Vorenus he knew how hard he had pushed Varro this morning and he had assumed Varro would barely have the energy to put on even a slow or weak performance, but he was surprised just how much energy Varro had. He would take that account when he trained him tomorrow. Varro’s expression was also entertaining the crowd. Before he had worn an expression of reluctance and embarrassment when last, he had performed publicly but not, he had a face of all almost warrior like determination as he went about his work.

His head dress made an impressive adornment to Varro even the most cynical guest who originally thought it looked silly admitted it suited him now. Wearing the bull horns as his extraordinarily muscular body went about its sensual performance. He looked a fanciful creature forged by the gods rather than a man in dress. Even the bell clanging around his neck gently, as he went about his work added to the performance the constant sound made by Varro’s quick movements seemed almost like music to accompany his moaning and grunting.

Eventually Varro climaxed, he felt it coming and saw he had lifted his head into the air, and arched his back even more so his chest and abdomen flexed and defined themselves even more, as he bellowed into the air like he was an actual bull. The audience cheered and applauded his efforts. Varro remained nude on the platform knowing not to move until given permission by his domina. Iliythia for her part had been deeply impressed with Varro but she, and a quite few guests, wanted more and so she declared that Varro would continue as many times as he was able. Varro wasn’t even surprised at this new, he felt far worse for Iliythia body slave he was currently still inside of, and so he resumed his performance.

Varro engaged in several more sex shows after that, more sluggishly than he had first but still with enough energy to wow and arouse the crow. Each one almost immediately after another. Having so many orgasms in such rapid succession was making him feel dizzy, he was feeling pleasure so encompassing so absolute that it felt overwhelming and even a bit painful. Eventually he couldn’t continue any more, even Iliythia could see that. She signalled for Varro to get off the platform and when he did his manhood looked raw to her, a testament to how much he had pushed himself for the viewing pleasure of the crowd.

Iliythia was prouder of the man Lucretia had given to for the remainder of the week than ever when he got off. She quickly reattached his leash and proudly paraded him around the garden as she engaged in small talk with her guests. Many of them asked for Iliythias permission to be allowed to touch or pet Varro like he was a dog, which legally speaking as a slave he had as much rights as one. Which Iliythia was happy to allow. Soon, Varro felt the soft, pampered hands of nearly every one of Iliythias guests glide over his firm muscled back, stomach, chest and thighs. Even Posca, normally a man more focused on business than pleasure had been impressed be what he had had witnessed. He had complimented Iliythia on finding such a handsome, exuberant man amongst all the gladiator schools of Italy to bring to their Villa. Varro of course received no congratulations for his efforts as the old man continued to praise Ilythia. Despite his distaste for the gladiator he couldn’t resist touching him like the over guests had. He ran his soft hands over Varros large biceps repeatedly. 

  
He asked what her plans where for Varro considering how Servilia was still hours away, Iliythia hadn’t really thought of that. She might let Varro rest for a bit more, she would definitely have him cleaned up for her friend. As much as she enjoyed the sight of Varro looking wild and untamed, she was sure Servilia wouldn’t. She might have some fun with Varro before her friend arrived if time willed it, as well.

After the last of the entourage dispersed to go back to their lives of working at the villa. Iliythia then took Varro by his leash and led him back toward the villa moving at a leisurely pace. This time rather than delegate the task to a slave she led Varro back down to bathe herself. Varro was curious what was to be asked for him but his eyes widened when Iliythia told him that because of thoroughly he had pleased her for the next few hours he could do whatever he wanted, as long as he did so in the baths area.  
Varro decided to take advantage of the next several hours of freedom that he had and jumped into the pool. He started to splash around happily like a small child at play. Iliytia had seen Varro could be rather childish, she saw how he boisterously sparred with Spartacus in the training yard of the ludus like they were young friends at play rather than gladiators at training. Seeing this was rather endearing but Iliythia felt bad watching this. It made her remember than there was a man inside the rippling flesh as she had made him go about one humiliation or hardship after another for her entertainment, was she feeling guilty? Perhaps just a little.

When Varro had enough with his time in the pool he got out. Most of the crime and sweat had been cleaned off him, there wouldn’t be any need for him to be cleaned by another slave again. He then lay by the pool closed his eyes and slept for several hours. He woke up and went into to the large bath to swim again. He was interrupted by a guard who told him that Iliythia summoned him to her bed chamber.

Iliythia was reclining on her balcony when she saw Varro came in escorted by a guard. He hadn’t given Varro time to dry himself there where drops of water rolling down his body, to her approval.

“You wished to see me, Domina?” Varro asked.

“Yes, Varro I thought we might have some fun together.”

“Do you want to retire to your bed now Domina?” But Iliythia laughed at him.

“No, Varro. You have not been summoned so that we could fuck, you are to provide different pleasures.” Varro squinted wondering what she meant by different pleasures before Iliythia went on to explain it to him.

“You’ve proven how skilled you are with your cock, slave. Now I wish to see how talented you are with your tongue.”

For the next half hour Varro’s was on his knees with his face between his mistress legs as he pleasured her with his tongue. Iliythia was surprised by how talented he was, oral pleasure was of the few taboos in roman society and Varro had been born into the conservative lower classes. She had already climaxed once and she didn’t permit Varro to stop, she leaned back and panted as she felt a second one begin to build.

She moaned in frustration as she heard footsteps approach, to her disappointed Varro stopping using his tongue, she turned around and saw they belonged to Varro’s trainer, Vorenus. The tall man for his part looked at the sight before him with disdain. He wondered if Albinus little brat would even have the social awareness to command her slave to pry his face away from between her legs so they could talk. He was wrong about even that. If anything, Iliythia pulled Varro’s head even closer in by his hair, enjoying the feeling of his blonde curls tickling the inside of her thighs.

“Don’t you dare stop, Varro. Keep going, what we speak of isn’t your concern.” She moaned in pleasure as Varro resumed his task.

“Domina. Varro,” Vorenus had decided to address them both, to Iliythia irritation.

“What…. mmmm, what is it, Vorenus?” Iliythia snapped impatiently.

“This concerns Varro’s training. I feel like she should be allowed a break from the chariot run tomorrow. I feel his energies would be more effectively spent on other exercises?”

“Could they all be done in this garden?” Ilythia asked hopefully. She had deeply enjoyed watching Varro’s warm up exercises this morning, watching him sweat and toil in the nude beneath her, watching his cock and balls swing with every quick movement. It was a show that Iliythia could watch for hours and never get bored.

“Unfortunately, that won’t be possible for all of them." Iliythia was disappointed at that but she was so close to Varro’s tongue bringing her to satisfaction that she didn’t care. She just spat at Vorenus.

“Fine, fine, whatever you want just leave Vorenus. I’m so close, now….so close.” She threw her head back and moaned. Vorneus departed giving an admiring glance at Varro.

After she had gotten enough satisfaction she and Varro retired into her chambers. She had been sent word by Cassia that Servilias carriage had been spotted and she readied herself to greet her. She put on Varro’s collar again, she would have put on his horns and bell as well, but she remembered Servilia was easily intimidated and she might find the sight frightening.

As she walked through the villa towards the entrance, she felt Varro looked rather boring in comparison to how novel he had looked most of the day either dirty or wearing his bull horns. He had been refreshed by his time in the baths and he looked clean as he had when he woke up this morning, the only difference was the few cuts and bruises he had accumulated throughout the day. It said a lot about Iliythia that she considered the sight of Varro being lead naked, and boasting a physique that would have shamed Hercules himself, shaved completely smooth and hairless , by his mistress on a leash, was a mundane sight.

Varro felt his toned stomach flutter nervously as he saw the carriage pull up towards the villa. He knew Iliythia would only associate with a certain class of people as friends, either those as rich and well-bred as she was or people who shared her sadistic, perverted interests. From the chariot a woman even more richly dressed than Iliythia emerged. Varro felt a sudden tug at his chain as Iliythia bolted across the ground to greet her friend.

“Servilia, welcome! I have such things to show you tonight!”


	7. A meeting between friends.

**Capua, the night before**

“She paraded my man like a common whore!” Her husband’s voice growled.

“I did not know her intention was to parade him across all of Capua.” She replied to her husband calmly.

“Did not know? Batiatus growled, his robes twirling in the air as he paced their bedchamber like a lion, “The spoilt little bitches’ tastes are well known, Lucretia.”

“I had assumed she would have restrained her appetites until they had retired to her villa.” She replied, once again calmly, but with irritation creeping into her voice.

“Or maybe you simply did not think.” he snarled, almost seething. Although he looked around and only then seemed to recall it was his own wife he was addressing so rudely, his mood changed quickly as it often did, his next words were much more softly.

“He was one of my men, Lucretia. He bore my mark and she had him dragged naked through the streets.” He sighed and reclined on their bed.

He began to rub his temples; it had now been a very pleasant day. His time in the pits were going terribly, while Spartacus had proven himself indomitable in battle, he was still a man made of meat and bone and the various injuries he was accumulating would eventually take their toll on the man and he would soon be departing this world. All of the rest of his men he had selected to fight had perished in the first day. And then, to complete the shame, another lanista he had known had gleefully whispered to him that a burly slave had been seen running in the nude through the street bearing his mark.

At the time he had barely noticed the comment he had been so focused on Spartacus latest fight; it was only when he had begun the journey back to his home that those words had began to gnaw at him. When he had arrived back the first thing, he had done was ask Oenomaus about the rumours he had heard about one of his gladiators. The man had had told them that the rumours were true. Batiatus tired and weary and covered in blood and filth from the pits had risen like a spooked guard dog and demanded he tell him what had happened. 

He had little interest in the dignity of his men, he would and had frequently inflicted many indignities on his men for the pleasure of his guests, but they had been the upper echelons of Capuan society. Now one of his men had been made a spectacle of before all of Capua, and a man he was trying to train and forge into a gladiator, a god of the arena, was going to be seen more an object of lust or a figure of jest rather than one who inspired the awe of the crowd.

He had all but exploded when Oenomaus had informed about the entirety of the truth. The man had been Varro, his most promising recruit in years, and it had been the senator’s daughter Ilithyia’s who had chained him to her carriage, stripped and bare. When he inquired further about the reason this had happened, he had told his master he did not know, that Ilithyia had arrived earlier at noon, she and his wife had made conversation for several hours and when she left, she had done so leading a nude Varro collared and chained like a dog.

He had furiously gone to find his wife and when he had done so they had engaged in an argument that was at his present still continuing. Batiatus had told her that she had no right to offer his men to anyone, that the name of the House of Batiatus had been dragged down and this was the result of women and business. Lucretia for her part had been rather hurt, her husband had often trusted her judgement and her counsel. She had made a calculated risk, the potential of having one man ruined/disgraced against the certainty of brining much needed wealth and patronage to their house. Unfortunately, her husband, usually the one to always advocate the advancement of business and the accumulation of coin over sentiment to their gladiators, had been in such a rage over his property being humiliated without his knowledge or blessing hadn’t seemed to have heard her.

They had argued some more until they were in their present state with Batiatus slumped on their bed rubbing his temples.

“He was a fine purchase and he’ll now be nothing but an object of scorn.” He sighed. Lucretia walked over to him and began to rub his head for him. She gave Naevia and another slave a subtle movement of the head, the only indication they had that they were to help her to improve their Dominus’s mood. They walked over and began to strip his robes off him.

“It is not a disaster,” she assured him, “he had only begun fighting, a few minor victories in the Vulcanalia, few of the crowd would recognise him as being one of your men.” 

Batiatus sighed, his wife was speaking nonsense and she knew it, even if Varro had been running to quickly for the average layman to see and recognise his mark, his physique was unmistakably that of a gladiator. But he knew she was doing it in an attempt to cheer him up and he could never stay angry at her for long.

“Even if we keep him in training for months away from the arena, he will be in the fantasies of every woman in Capua.” He joked smiling at her, Lucretia smiled politely back at her husband. 

The jest was much more true than he knew, Varro had been the second most attractive man in the ludus and the sight he had made nude and painted earlier that morning had been deeply arousing, Lucretia had watched from the balcony enjoying the sight of his nude body marching behind the carriage as long as she could, and she had summoned Crixus to her bed as soon as she was able. During their love making she had pretended she was Ilithyia rich and free and able to enjoy the pleasures of her gladiators’ body publicly and without shame, as she was doubtlessly going to enjoy Varro’s.

“Then let that be his function,” she said her voice playful and joking, “let him inspire women’s dreams as other gladiators inspire men’s. I’ve heard of a ludus in Rome that adorns their slaves in erotic costumes in the arena.” She had hoped that would brighten her husband’s mood, but it had been a miscalculation, she should have remembered how sensitive he was over the reputation of his family and his business. He snapped up from the bed like a viper, so quickly he nearly knocked Naevia to the ground and began pacing the floor again.

“I am my father’s son. I train gladiators not whores,” he muttered angrily, “You should not have given Varro to her without my consent, I am the paterfamilias of this house Lucretia.” He noticed his wife was just sitting there quietly and suddenly he felt guilty. He stood quietly until a thought occurred to him.

“The sum Ilithyia paid for Varro’s services for the next week, what was it?” He asked curiously. Lucretia smiled and told him.

The sweet words that his wife uttered put him in a much better move.

For a time, her husband seemed to be ecstatic, the coin she had procured for their house rivalled what Spartacus winnings were bringing and then she sweetened the news by informing him that Ilithyia had sworn she would tell me of her wealthiest acquaintances back in Rome about how well the House of Batiatus treats its guests and the pleasures to be offered behind its walls. By then her husband had looked more content and satisfied than he had in months.

But there was one thing yet to be addressed.

“You were to host another celebration a few nights hence, yes?”

“I was.”

“And I assume there was to be “entertainment” offered for the guests.”

“There is.”

“And to repeat the success of the night of the Vulcanalia it would have been Varro partnered with another woman.” His wife, thinking she knew what concerned, him got up to soothe him.

“You worry about nothing, we have many hard, rippling men to inspire base lust in are guests. I will select a suitable replacement, perhaps…..” Her husband raised his hand to interrupt her.

“I have my own choice in the matter.”

“Of course, who is it?”

“Crixus.” He said plainly.

At first it felt like all blood in her face had frozen, then mere seconds later it felt as if it was boiling.

“You would disgrace are champion? Are sole remaining draw of the crowd?” She tried to appear calm, to argue with reason, but she all but hissed the words. Her dress all but flowed in the air as she walked towards her husband, her movements were so quick in her anger. Seeing this he raised his palm to her.

“It will be witnessed only by the highest born of Capua. A private spectacle that will only be whispered, if its ever mentioned again.”

“I don’t care if we invite the lowest born scum in all the republic,” She said angrily, “He has been are most valued slave for years. He has brought this house glory, and this is how you reward him?” That did annoy him, his wife could at least try to hide her affection and lust for Crixus to him.

_Does she truly think me such a fool?_

“He is a slave, Lucretia,” he replied, his voice polite but flavoured with irritation, “His function is whatever profits this house.” Seeing his wife continue to silently seethe, he walked over to her back, placed his hands on her shoulders gently, and kissed her neck.

“Crixus skills will always be valued,” he said as rubbed her shoulders, “but we cannot solely rely on revenue from battles in the arena to provide us with coin, to provide you with all that you deserve in this world,” he pulled at her golden necklace to emphasis his point, “we will need to pursue more unpleasant avenues until the people of Capua see are true worth.” He then let go off his wife, currently as still as marble and turned around her to face her.

“A lesson that you yourself have learned.” He said, his voice revealing the lingering embers of resentment he had over having his authority being undermined and one of his most valued pieces of property degraded.

His wife knowing there was nothing she could say to change his mind left the room without saying a word.

When she was gone, he could only sigh, can women truly not sperate their emotions from business? She herself was very aware of the profit there was from indulging in men’s baser desires but when her pet’s dignity was threatened, she rediscovered sentiment? 

He had never been particularly fond of Crixus, the cost he had paid for the man had been obscene, an ill-fated attempt to bribe Tullius and he still felt phantom pain form the severity of the beating from the ingrateful man. While he had warmed somewhat to the Gaul when he saw how strong, loyal, and dedicated he was, that had ended when Lucretia had summoned him to her chambers and forced him to make love to her. _How does she think I do not know? Who does she think pays her guards?_

Initially he thought little of it, he had assumed the Gaul would command her lusts and pleasures while he would have her love and affection. Certainly, he knew he could never compete with the man’s large muscles or handsome, swarthy face but as long as the Gaul proved himself on the arena, he would have no cause to take action. Then he noticed how Lucretia interests in him didn’t appear to be purely physical. True, her eyes would light up as she watched him exert his muscled form in the yard or flexed for the crowd, but she would also loudly praise him and shield him from the many indignities of life as a slave. However, in the years that followed Crixus became their champion and had become their biggest draw so Batiatus wasn’t sure he could do anything to him even if he wanted to. 

But he could humble him. 

As his wife had humbled Varro without his blessing or knowledge. It would be a good thing; Lucretia would learn there was consequences to undermining him and Crixus would be humbled and reminded that he was nothing but a slave. He looked out from the ludus and wondered what was happening to Varro and Ilithyia right now. 

Then suddenly another idea came to him. 

The machinations and schemes of his master had been far from Varro’s mind that night as he had made love to his mistress and they were even farther now as he felt the tug of his leash as Ilithyia walked swiftly other to the carriage that had just arrived at her villa. He hesitantly yet resignedly moved his thick muscular legs to follow her. He heard Ilithyia address the figure emerging from in an irritating giggle.

“Servilia, welcome! I have such things to show you tonight!”

Varro’s heart sank even deeper when he heard that. He had no idea what things his mistress was referring but he was fairly confident it would be the humiliating, depraved “entertainment” he had already provided for Lucretia’s guests and Ilithyia’s staff and whoever this woman was, to be friends with Iliythia meant she was at the very least of noble stock and he had learned a very harsh lesson in the last month of how cruel and degenerate his so-called betters where. 

As he stood there anxiously, he heard a woman’s reply as the door to the carriage was being opened. The voice sounded even more cultivated and higher breed than even Ilithyia

“Gratitude Ilithyia, but I would exchange sights for water. This drought is even worse than what they say in Rome. I do not know how you stand it in Capua.” Then the door opened, and the figure emerged.

The woman was beautiful, slender, and petite, with fine facial features. She had a more natural beauty to her than Ilithyia and so adorned herself much more conservatively with little of her friend’s garish jewellery, wigs and makeup. She was now walking to the ground; she was smiling softly as she approached her friend.

“Greetings, Ilithyia. It has been too long, You have been missed in…..” She trailed off, her eyes widening. 

She had noticed Varro.

At first, she wondered whether it was a fevered dream driven by the drought and whether she would need that water from her friend more than she first thought but as she felt the summer breeze she knew she was not dreaming. Her senses where now dulled, what she was seeing was real.

Her friend Ilithyia was leading a slave by the leash and he was naked.

At first, she didn’t know what to say, the vision in front of her was so bizarre. Her friend was leading a man entirely in the nude, the sight was somewhat comical. The man was enormous, tall and with a muscular physique that would shame the statues in her home, and he was standing and following his domina submissively like a beaten dog. Although she noted the man wasn’t completely beaten, she had seen slaves at parties with her friends who had been trained to walk in the nude and perform erotically with their face as still as steel. Whereas the man in front of her, while obedient and demure, seemed sullen and resentful, almost boyishly so. He seemed to find his nudity rather uncomfortable and was fidgeting and clearly resisting the urge to cover his rather large genitals.

 _So, if this slave is not well trained in that matter,_ Ilithyia _couldn’t have purchased him from a brothel. Then where was this man claimed from?_

Then she realised something.

This man’s musculature was simply not possible to obtain from a freedman, she had seen many different soldiers and mercenaries with her family visiting the republic and while they had been lean and toned, they had not even remotely as sculpted, large or rippling as the man in front of her. The training he must undergo to achieve such a figure would be torture, only a slave could be expected to endure it. 

Then she realised.

“Ilithyia, I see you have finally procured a gladiator to call you own.” Her voice and smile was polite and diplomatic, but her eyes shone in amusement at the comical figure her friend had made of herself.

“Y…yes, he is a gladiator,” Ilithyia said quickly, she was rather annoyed Servilia had figure it out so quickly, she had been hoping to surprise her, “He is called Varro. He is from the house of Batiatus, the finest Ludus in all of Capua. He had only recently obtained the rank of gladiator, but he has proven himself one of their finest men already. He performed admirably in the games of the Vulcanalia.” 

“And this ludus was willing to part with such a man?” She inquired, the shock of seeing a large naked man had now passed her and she could see how healthy and handsome he was. Not just his large muscles but his skin. It was tanned and unblemished, apart from the scars he had accumulated, and he had large thick curly golden hair that crowned his head. 

“Not quite,” She replied, her face feeling flushed, “They were kind enough to part with him for a week and allowed me to purchase his services.” 

“And what services may that be?” She asked. At that, Ilithyia sputtered.

“Entertainment. What else? The man is not just a feast for the eyes, I am to fight him with over slaves. There is a shepherd who tends the lands here, he is skilled in combat and his body is of fine form. I was to have them fight in the nude tonight.” She said hoping to impress Servilia

But the higher born woman didn’t seem to be impressed, she seemed to find something amusing in what she was seeing. That wasn’t what was supposed to happen, Servilia was supposed to be impressed and astounded by what she saw. She knew her friend was almost as interested in gladiators as she was. Not so much the games themselves, she often flinched from the gory sight, but the hard rippling men who toiled and struggled upon them. In their adolescence they would often get plied with wine and opium and giggle and whisper to each other about the things they would do them if they had them alone and in their power.

 _And now we do, and she does nothing but look on_. She was somewhat offended, partly on Varro’s behalf. Iliythia felt oddly proud of the man and his strength and beauty, considering she only started her (temporary) control over him from the day before and had played no part in his training. He was her trophy, her prize. He was like a god descending from the heavens and she and now her friend where free to play with him as much as their hearts desired.

Servilia had always been less daring than Ilithyia, more obedient and demurer than her daring, bolder friend. _But there were times when she could be as wild as I was, she cant have changed that much._ Certainly, over the years Servilia became painfully aware of how she was a stratum above her friends’ position, much like Licinia had. She was a member of the ancient and sacred Junia, and while Ilithyia‘s family had merely influenced the politics of Rome, the city was built upon their very bones. She had always been much more observant of Roman tradition.

_But not always, she sees the absurdity of laws and tradition meant only to contain and enslave. Now there is a man who any woman would give her life to bed, nude and under are power and she does nothing. How could eyes that were open in the naivety of youth close in the wisdom of maturity?_

Varro felt like something was wrong. Not just his vulnerable state, naked and collared, now property of a villa populated by sadists and perverts but there was something wrong in the way the roman women were acting. He knew from what he saw from his life in the ludus that most roman “friendships” were nothing of the kind. They were often nothing more than relations based on power, any affections being little more than a veil and he was afraid, even more than being used for base pleasure, of being dragged into the schemes of the nobility.

The woman approached him, and he straightened himself up, trying to appear dignified, a rather pointless effort seeing as was nude and chained like an animal. He saw the woman smile at him, it seemed polite, rather than the playful sadism of other Romans who touched him. She indicated with her left hand than he was to raise his arms, when he had done so she inspected them until she saw the letter “B” branded into his forearm.

“Ah, yes. This is indeed the marking of a lanista,” she said in a tone indicating she believed Ilithyia may have been lying about her slave to impress her, “I recall a beast from Gaul bearing it upon his arm. When my husband had yet been elevated to his proper ranking in the senate and still had to appear in the lesser cities of Italia.” She said while smiling at her friend’s direction.

Ilithyia for her part pursed her lips and looked at her friend in a babyishly petulant fashion.

Servilia almost laughed. “Gratitude for such…..consideration, Ilithyia but I have had a long journey and I am too tired to properly enjoy the sight of your beast locked in combat. Perhaps, tomorrow?”

“Tomorrow.” She agreed quietly, her girlish voice almost becoming a hateful whisper.

“In the meantime, Ilithyia. I have seen much has changed in your father’s villa. Would you be so kind as to guide me and show all these new wonderous additions to your home?”

“It would be my pleasure.” Ilithyia muttered, seething.

As they walked through the richly decorated grounds Servilia noticed her friend taking her impotent anger out on her slave, she would tug on his collar, making him walk across gravel or give him a quick slap across the head or buttocks. In a way, she felt sorry for the slave, she highly doubted this was what he imagined life as gladiator would have entailed but Ilithyia needed to be humbled. 

It was a rather clumsy attempt to manipulate and impress her and she was rather offended by it. As she the strapping blonde gladiator follow them, his large cock swaying and his large muscles catching the last of the setting sun, she felt certain urges. She was not blind, Ilithyia despite everything that could be said about her had excellent taste, and if it had been mere years ago, she doubtlessly would have gleefully indulged in whatever base plans her friend had for the man, but the years had matured her, and she was longer as much a slave to her animal appetites as her friend evidently still was. She saw that Ilithyia was running her hand along the gladiators sculpted stomach along his hard chest before ending the movement by quickly pinching a nipple, her friend looked grotesquely proud of herself for touching a broken and enslaved man.

She sighed, as she realized it had always been Ilithyia ‘s way. Since they were children, she had always thought herself much more bold and daring than she truly was. She would break rules often against her advice but always in secret when she was certain she would get away with it. She would complain about the tyranny of her father and the social norms of Roman society when she found them inconvenient, but she fundamentally deferred to them like the other women she sneered at for the luxuries and comforts life as a noble woman brought her.

She knew Ilithyia‘s opinion of her, that she was too cowardly, too obedient, too submissive, an opinion that had increased throughout the years. A rather hypocritical condemnation considering Ilithyia had married and ended up in the same position as Servilia. Doubtless she thought her current actions was the height of rebellion, to have a gladiator naked in her home, presumably permanently, judging by the lack of reaction from the slaves in the gardens as they walked through them, and was doubtless fornicating with him while her husband attended to his position of praetor in the senate. However, she was keeping him in her home where all slaves and staff were loyal to her and kept her secrets and she had invited a friend who she knew was not known for her loose tongue. 

Varro was getting more and more uncomfortable, while the noble woman Servilia was not the sadist he had feared, he was aware that Ilithyia had brought him out partially to impress her friend and he had felt he had failed in that regard. He was afraid that Ilithyia would punish him for that, she was noticeably much rougher with him than she had been this morning. 

The pain itself wasn’t particularly bad, her firm tugging was nothing compared to the pains of the harness or the chain as he was dragged and forced to pull the chariot during his torturous runs and his feet had hardened to the point that even walking barefoot over the gravel of the villas frounds caused him little discomfort, but it all reminded him that the woman who had tormented him for her own amusement, even when she was pleased with him, was now angry with him. The thought of what that might mean for him so distressed Varro that he hadn’t noticed they had completed their tour of the grounds and were now standing by the entrance. Varro felt the warmth of the lit torches by the doors and wanted to get closer to him, it was now dark, and his nude body had no protection from the cool climate, but Ilithyia was standing far away from them.

They were still talking.

“Servilia, I’m afraid we must depart with Varro for the moment he requires feeding. He has trained very hard today and he requires replenishment.”

“Trained?” Servilia replied, her incredulity hidden by a diplomatic smile.

“I have put him through the most rigorous of exercises, to get his body even further to perfection. A gift to my friends at the house of Batiatus, while they may part with the man for the week, he’ll be returned fitter than when he left.”

 _I’m sure that’s your reason._ She thought amused in memory at how during their walk Iliythias hands, almost as if they had a mind of their own, had touched and squeezed the slave’s firm, rippling abs, pecs, biceps and ass.

As she handed Varro’s leash to a nearby guard who dragged him away to be feed, she was suddenly reminded of a what a powerful creature she had under her absolute power. The guard’s arms was about half as thick as her pet, who was naked, bound and utterly, erotically helpless. She then addressed her friend suddenly in a much better mood.

“So, shall I show you around the property?” She inquired smiling.

“I would be delighted, thank you.”

It had taken quite a while to show and inform Servilia about all the changes to her home and the various works of art she and her father had purchased. By the end of it Servilia had announced she eoulf prefer to rest and refresh herself before dining with her. Which she was happy to permit, it gave her time to oversee the final preparation of the meal and, of course, Varro’s presentation.

As she walked into the enormous room, she saw him. Varro was standing beside a small plinth, and by his feet were a shield, a sword, jars of oil and a Corinthian helmet, with an extravagantly large red plume attached to it. The gladiator himself seemed to be discomforted by something, she couldn’t imagine what it would be, the food she had ordered to be served to him was much more filling and richer than the stale porridge he would be accustomed to. Was it concern over what was expected of him? That cant be it either, surely it was evident he was to be posed and displayed as artwork like he had been in Lucretia’s home, he must be accustomed to it by now? Then she saw the slaves attending him and she knew.

The female slaves surrounding Varro were almost to a woman thrilled with the opportunity to oil the man’s perfect body but with one exception. A girl who could not look Varro in the eye and who the man himself was trying to avoid looking at altogether. It was Cassia.

The gladiator seemed very sheepish and uncomfortable around the girl, an attitude she reciprocated. She frowned at the sight in front of her, as Cassia lowered her trembling hands into the oils pots before slowly beginning to rub it into his skin. In utter contrast to her other slaves’ enthusiasm and glee. She was still upset at being forced to pleasure to Varro that afternoon, which striked Ilithyia as rather odd, she and Varro had seemed fond of each other, surely, he at least should have enjoyed what had happened? Cassia was rather pampered and vain for a slave, but a gladiator should appreciate any pleasure he could have in this life but as Cassia began to rub oil onto his legs Varro flinched and tensed in embarrassment and awkwardness.

She sighed, this would distract Varro and regardless of how absurd the reasons she wanted Varro to be focused. So, she walked over to the man currently being prepared.

“Cassia?” the girl all but leapt up at the sound of his cruel mistress’s voice.

“Yes, Domina?” She said, terrified.

“Your excused, go to the kitchen and fetch more figs,” she said contemptuously, the girl all but fled from her the sight of her mistress and the naked sight of Varro, she then addressed the rest of the slaves, “Continuing preparing him.”

“Yes, Domina.” The other slaves chorused, delighted that each individual girl now had more of the man’s body to touch.

The oiling was much more thorough and invasive than any other he had endured before. It made the preparation he had undergone before his performance for Lucretia’s guests feel cursory. Every square inch of his body was oiled repeatedly. By the time they were finished he seemingly shone in the room, even with the only dim lighting being provided by the torches mounted on the wall.

Next, he was to put the helmet on. The helmet was designed to be as concealing as possible. The slit in the front was just wide enough to allow air into the contraption. Varro himself realized he could barely see or hear a single thing after it was slid over his head. What was uncomfortable and rather frightening for him, was deeply arousing for her. With almost the entirety of his face hidden behind the bronzed helmet Varro was seemingly transformed from mortal man to beautiful art. His body tanned beneath the sun and sculpted by endless exercise resembled sculpture more than flesh and appeared a continuation of the metal helmet. 

Varro was then led by the hand by one of the slaves and forced to stand on the plinth, he felt hands prod and poke him into readjusting his body. Then he felt his left arm being fed into a series of straps and he realized it was the shield he had seen. He was not to hold it as he normally did in the arena or at training, instead he was to lift his arm, so it was held far away from his body. So as his little as his bare form would be obscured as possible.

Finally, he was given the handle of a sword to hold. He was surprised to realize it was an authentic metal sword, he had assumed they would give him a fake one due it being lighter and easier for him to hold but evidently Ilithyia wanted no aspect of his life to be easy. He was forced to stretch his gorgeous, toned arm out as long and as high as he could. It was already uncomfortable, and he had no idea how long he was expected to hold it.

Ilithyia was pleased but not surprised by how stunning Varro looked, the beauty and perfection of his body was to be expected by now. She glanced around the room, all food and furniture where laid as she wished them to be. Everything was ready for Servilia.

As Ilithyia‘s guest entered the room Varro was only dimly aware of what was happening. His heavy helmet significantly dulled his vision and hearing but he could tell Servilia had entered the room and she and her host were sitting down to eat. From what he could tell the conversation was amiable, their tone seemed to lack the thinly veiled contempt and venom that so often flavoured the conversation of the high born of the republic. 

Or he was simply a poor judge, certainly he could barely make out a single sentence uttered. He could hear when one of the women giggled about a past memory or loudly boasted about their husbands and their ambitions and their ascendency in the senate. While the situation he was in was utterly humiliating and rather physically taxing and painful it was nothing compared to what he had learned to endure in the last month.

As he stood in his pose, cut off from all stimuli apart the very faint breeze brushing against his bare skin, he was now quite confident that he was not going to be touched or molested and all he had to do was pose in the nude, a rather simple task for him considering his incredible stamina and strength but this was a mixed blessing for he suddenly became aware of everything that had happened to him in the last few days, with nothing to distract him. It felt so much longer than mere days since he was traded and loaned like he was furniture. It had felt as it was years since he woke up the bowels of Batiatus’s ludus as a gladiator, a man of pride and strength, rather than a spoilt brat’s pet and plaything. 

He would occasionally feel phantom pains and sensations, from the smarmy trainer Vorenus whipping him as his harness bit into his skin as he pulled the chariot he was attached to, he felt the old woman’s fingers and the cold water forcibly enter him as he was cleansed, and he felt the prying eyes and hands from every man and woman who had touched and leered at him as he spent his time walking and running in the nude. 

These feeling did not cause him to fall or slip on the plinth, his discipline was nigh absolute, but it did cause him to flinch and tense at times. Ilithyia of course noticed it in amusement and arousal, every inch of Varro was a delight to her, and she particularly enjoyed when Varro’s stomach fluttered out of nerves. As his abdominals were sent into a slight wave the beauty eclipsing any tide she had seen in the many port cities of the republic.

Servilia for her part seemed to appreciate the beauty of her man much more now than when she had arrived, with her gaze occasionally moving to stare at the man from time to time. It was probably due to the fact Varro’s nudity was now much more tasteful, posed like sculpture, rather than being led by her hand like an animal. Or perhaps being plied with wine had simply caused her to reveal her true feelings towards the man.

Eventually the meal ended, it had lasted a considerable length of time but eventually they ran out of things to eat or talk about. Servilia gathered herself and walked over to Ilithyia thanking her for being such a gracious host before kissing her on the cheek, retiring to the bed chambers that Ilithyia had prepared for her. As she walked away Ilithyia continued to have a false smile plastered on her face before the red-haired woman disappeared entirely from view, at which point the domina of the houses face dissolved into a childish pout and she exhaled sharply.

She walked over to the naked slave still rising the heavy sword over his head with the only the slightest sign of the muscled arm quivering. How could Servilia not have appreciated such a man more? If she had arrived and one of her friends had a man such as this under her complete power and offered the chance to watch him fight and toil, she would have taken it without hesitation.

Varro could see a figure through his slit approach him. It was probably Ilithyia, he was not sure if she going to touch him or to signal to him to get down off the plinth. He tensed his body up and was surprised to feel her lightly touch his left wrist, and she gently guided him in his near blindness off the platform. 

As his body adjusted to no longer having to adopt an unnatural and uncomfortable position, he felt the hands of slaves take his sword and shield off him. Then he breathed in deeply as his stifling helmet was removed, the warm air of the villa as fresh as that of a lake compared to the metal his face had spent hours being pressed against. When he looked at his temporary owner, he could not read her expression as she gazed intently at him, she had said nothing but from her eyes he could see a mixture of lust, curiosity, disappointment, and anger. That frightened him beyond words.

“Domina, if I have failed you tonight, I apologise.” He stammered. The woman looked up at him, seemingly surprised to hear his voice at all. She raised her hand at him.

“None required. You have performed admirably this day, beyond my greatest expectations. You would compliment any house in the republic. Servilia is a fool to not desire you.” Despite how much suffering the cruel woman had caused him and had degraded he felt he couldn’t help but feel an uncertain grin form at the compliment.

“Gratitude, Domina.” He said happily. The woman smiled at him and looked down at his large penis.

“You will have time to demonstrate your gratitude with me tonight, slave,” she whispered, yearning for the pleasures of the gladiators body, “ I still have duties to fulfil in the villa, until then go to my chamber and ready yourself.” She then got on her toes and kissed him on the lips, before quickly walking away from him, her silken dress trailing behind her.

It was only when she had left the room that Varro realised that Ilithyia had not sent for a guard to escort him, which meant he had been trusted to walk back on his own. It felt oddly liberating after days off his every waking moment being strictly controlled and that evil collar and chain attached to him. He looked around to see if some cruel trick was being pulled on him and a slave or guard would appear to return to him bondage but neither such thing happened. So with a relieved sigh he started to walk to his dominas room.

It late at night now and most of the household staff had retired to their sleeping quarters leaving him alone. As he walked through the cavernous villa, his body naked, smooth, reflective and radiant, he felt like he had entered a dream. Although considering he was walking to the chambers where he would bed a woman against his will and doubtless be waked the next morning to endure another excruciating day of various tortures and humiliations it was more like a nightmare.

As he contemplated that he got rather close to a lit torch and remembering just how much oil was on his skin he realised he was liable to be set alight upon the closest contact with the flame. He rather inelegantly darted away from the torch the quick movement sending his large cock and balls swinging. The feeling made Varro giggle; he wasn’t sure if he was being driven mad by his treatment but suddenly, he felt aware of what an absurd situation he was in. He was a large naked man, being led by a leash like a dog by a spoiled girl and shaved as smooth as a little boy. He felt like a boy himself again, then he remembered who else he was reminded of and all good humour evaporated from him instantly.

He thought of his son, Janus. The boy must be suffering terribly without his father, they had always been so close, he had been his sons’ best friend and playmate, they would spend ages wrestling with him and the boy had wept uncontrollably the day he had departed to the ludus not understanding why his father had to go. Suddenly he felt absurdly guilty over selling himself into slavery and, considering his current condition, he felt he had made a grave mistake in not heeding his wife’s advice and fleeing their creditors to Neapolis.

He glumly looked at his bare feet, there wasn’t anything he could do about it now. He was probably the most defenseless, helpless man in all the republic. He tried to tell himself that this was only for 6 more days, then he would be returned to the ludus where he would rise and gain prominence until he could afford to pay off his debts. It seemed a realistic prospect rather than a deluded fantasy, doctore had told him he was the strongest recruit and the quickest of study he had in years. He just had to endure this for a week.

_Just one week._

Later that night as Varro lay on the bed, Iliythia rode him as if he was some untamed beast. It was rather embarrassing being dominated by a woman but seeing as how he hated betraying his wife like this, it was a small mercy for it to be as impersonal as possible. He just stilled himself, body and mind, as best he could. When Varro had return to his dominas bed he had fondled himself until he was hard, to be ready for Iliythia, and when she had arrived she was still rather upset at her night not going as well as she had anticipated and coupled with the wine she had consumed was not in the mood for elaborate games. She simply got down to business, shoved him to his back, got on top of him and started to fuck him.

They both quickly climaxed, and Varro again learned there was a difference between pleasure of the body and of the mind. He had not enjoyed their session at all, and as his seed cooled his only thought was the concern that he might impregnate this evil woman. He was certain he could learn to love any child he had but it would be hard knowing it was borne by a woman as evil as this. Then he realised he was being stupid, he had been coupled with a woman for the entertainment of the crowd several times and he was fairly certain Crixus was used by Lucretia in a similar fashion as Iliythia used him and she had yet to bear a child. Upper class romans must have means and methods to prevent a child growing in a woman’s womb. As he considered this he felt Iliythia climb off him.

She herself had deeply enjoyed their lovemaking, Varro had done very little, mainly lay there like a corpse but his large cock and muscles, which she had pawed at for the entirety of their coupling, had been more than enough to see her satisfied. As she crawled off him, she lay on the side of her bed. She saw Varro get up, as if to leave the room, seeing this she irritably grabbed him by the cock and pulled at him until he crawled and lay beside her. His muscular chest pressed against her slender back and his warm breath tickling her neck.

Varro was deeply disappointed that once again he was forced to lie and sleep with the women responsible for his degradation and suffering. He would prefer to sleep in the slave quarters in the hard floor than the soft sheets with this woman, but he was a slave, his preferences inconsequential. Much worse than last night was the fact that from the angle he was lying at he could see outside from the balcony, out into the open world, away from this torturous prison but he could do nothing to go to It and all the sight did was tease him.

He had hoped that would be the end of his services to Ilithyia that night, that she would let him rest quietly. As absurd as it sounded, he didn’t want to go to sleep, as much as desperately needed rest. He didn't want to wake up to another day of torture. He was planning on closing his eyes and trying to pretend his domina was his sweet, loving wife but he was denied even that as he felt Ilithyia take hold of his hands and begin to glide them to several parts of her body. One hand was moved until it was cupping her breast, and another was between her legs.

Varro, knowing what she desired, began his task.

“Varro you are a marvel,” Ilithyia panted as Varro’s calloused fingers pressed against a special button inside her, sending waves of pleasure through her.

“Gratitude Domina.” The man replied mechanically. His hands continuing to stimulate and pleasure her. This was so much worse than when he simply had to lie back and allow the woman to take her pleasure off him.

“Did you apply such skill with you wife?” She inquired casually and to her surprise, her slave stopped.

“My wife?” He replied shocked, how did she know he was married?

“Yes, your wife. You were married before your enslavement, weren’t you? Plebians marry young.” She said as he pushed at Varro’s wrists hoping he’d take a hint and resume pleasuring her.

“How did you know I was once a freedman?” He said, feeling like he had been slapped.

“Your name and your speech are Roman.” She said in a tone suggesting he was quite an imbecile, she pulled at his hands even more urgently. Varro got the hint and red faced resumed stimulating her once more.

As she enjoyed herself, she began to make conversation once again between heavy pants.

“I am too have you exercised for twice as long in the garden as you were today. Vorenus forgets who pays him, and you will provide a feast for the eyes for me and Servilia.”

“Yes, Domina.”

“And I mean to drive the chariot myself tomorrow. There is a market containing many smiths and artisans and there is something I wish to have made. The market is quite some distance from my father’s villa.” She said dreamily as she felt herself began to quake.

“Yes, Domina.” He should be shivering at the thought of enduring even more intense exercises and an even longer run driving the chariot but all he felt was shame at being reminded of his situation and past life by the cruel woman, he hoped she wouldn’t use it to embarrass him.

As he felt her shutter and climax, he withdrew his hands and was once more denied the meagre pleasures of solitude as she took hold of his crown of golden curls and dragged his face until it was nestled on her neck. She moaned contently at the closeness with her pet. While he inwardly groaned, he could smell her perfume, he could feel her wig scratch against him and there would be no possibility of pretending he was lying besides his beloved wife rather than his cruel mistress. 

So as Ilithyia feel into a contended sleep he simply lay there, his blue eyes open as he looked outside. Knowing when dawn broke the air would be thick with the sounds of whips and canes cracking against his flesh and thickened with the smell of his sweat as he perspired in the hard labour of training under the Italian sun. He moaned as softly as he could.

_It is just one week. Then I can resume being a gladiator, resume being a man. I will see my brothers again and Spartacus, assuming he survives the pits._

_Just one week._


End file.
